


The Lies the Herald Told Us

by Galindrael



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age - Freeform, Eventual Romance, F/M, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, ptsd mention, the smooches have started!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galindrael/pseuds/Galindrael
Summary: What happens after all the carefully spun lies of the Inquisitor come crashing down? When Cullen's loyalties are being tugged in all directions, where does he land? And now, Lady Trevelyan has changed everything.





	1. A Letter of Inconvenience

 

Cullen had not been this enraged at the Inquisitor since she decided to side with the mages in years prior. Adding to the pile of things Cullen didn’t agree with: Her decisions about banishing the Wardens, Blackwall being allowed to stay, siding completely with Celene, and now her decision about _requiring_ the few Templars they have left to stop remembering and acting on the very real danger magic presents. Cullen now trying to quit lyrium again after the Inquisitor suggested he stop after Corypheus was dead. But Maker, how she had said it, “Why did you start taking it if you didn’t want to?” “Because you thought I would be a better, stronger, Commander back on it”. How little she must think of him. After she paraded into his life it has been headache after headache. And with little help save Cassandra in the Keep his pleas mostly went ignored, or, tutted for always offering a show of force, “I’m a _military_ commander, not a Lord needing praise for the diplomatic decisions he makes on a whim”. And Leliana was always on him about the mages, “You should give them a chance,” “I _have_ spymaster. It doesn’t make me any less comfortable. I just steer clear and train my soldiers”  The Inquisitor, half-listening; “You mean _my_ soldiers”.   _Yes, your fucking soldiers. You both know what I meant._ He could tell she was joking but, Maker, that didn’t seem to change his annoyance.

 

“Inquisitor, I need an answer about the allocations for funds to,” Cullen stopped in his tracks when he heard talk outside the door.

“I’m sorry, Cullen, not yet. We need to ensure that,” Josephine came in after a quick knock, just then stopping her in her tracks for whatever bullshit explanation she was going to give him.

“I am sorry to interrupt, Commander, Inquisitor,” she cleared her throat, “ but the Marquis is here and is eager to negotiate with you,” Trevelyan got up and smoothed over her dress and assured Josephine she would be on her way.

“I’m sorry Commander,” she finished her tea, “some other time, ok?”

She didn’t let him answer but that was probably for the better as every time this comes up she’s magically whisked away from the talk. _His_ soldiers were getting sick, specifically his Templars and none were listening to him. Cullen got up, went to the hidden bar and poured himself a fifth of some pretentiously expensive liquor. _Fuck ‘em._

 

Cullen slammed his office door shut. With an Inquisitor who barely takes your advice, unless in battle, he felt useless here. There were still things to be done but nothing that explicitly required him.   _There’s nothing holding me here. Lady Trevelyan has been sour since I admitted I no longer felt the same since we stopped... whatever we had going on. I couldn’t be with a person who consistently tells me I need that substance to be better than I am at my job. Which they hired me for while I was already so close to- I can’t be with a woman who doesn’t listen to what I am really saying to her.  She listens mostly to Leliana and Josie is Leliana’s best friend. I’m in a fucking corner with my tail tucked between my legs._ Cullen sat down in his chair and rested his head in his hands for a moment before deciding it was best to get some work done before he drank himself to sleep. Drinking was the only way to keep the nightmares quite again since they’ve resurfaced so violently. And all he could do after that was stare at the hole in his ceiling and try to think of a life after all of this was over...but every time he couldn’t imagine himself getting out of here as himself.

 

The next few days went by with little issues. One from a recruit who thought it would be cute to get lippy with him ended up on latrine duty. Another, from some noble they endorsed, tried to undermine him “We’re not at war anymore, we don’t need-” Cullen just turned around, and ignored the whining until the next day in the training ring and promptly put him on his ass which felt wonderfully satisfying until Lady Trevelyan _insisted_ that he apologized. _Like fucking hell I will._  Josie sent him a stack of perfumed letters from people who were still sending him drivel after the Winter Palace incident. _What I need is a strong horse and good weather. I need to get out of this Keep._  But the little things kept him here. While Rylen would make a good replacement he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. His soldiers trusted him. What kind of Commander would he be if he just up and left it all behind? _A small cabin surrounded by rich earth and crystalline waters. The smell of dirt and pine each morning_...No, there was still work to be done despite the Elder One’s death. His guilt made sure of it.

 

Today, though, Maker, today made him infuriated.

“The empress would like to send her cousin, Genevieve, here for a tour, she would like to have her name's day celebration here. Which means, “ Josephine paused for effect, “That a donation is sure to follow,” she smiled widely, proud of the conclusion she came to.

“Sure to follow,” Cullen said slowly, questioning the words, “Is that a guarantee? Or simply speculation?”

“It would be rude of the Empress to not donate if we host a party for her, a social misstep, if you were,” Josephine rebuttled.

“We still have Red Templar outposts up and you want to have a party? Shall I send Samson a basket in the hovel he hides in?”  
The Inquisitor sensed his annoyance and stepped closer to him, trying to appease him with the softness of her voice, “Cullen, I’m sorry, I thought in the wild,” Cullen cut her off.

“That he wouldn’t find any remaining followers? That he wouldn’t seek that maker damned shit the Chantry shoved in our hands?” Cullen had stood, loomed over the Inquisitor unaware of the position he had placed himself in, but one of the Inquisitor’s eyebrows were quirked up and she was holding her breath, waiting for his anger to explode, but Cullen turned his back to her, shut his eyes and repeated his mantra to himself in his mind, inhaling deeply; _I am better than this. I do not need it. I can and have been doing this. I am fine._ He exhaled and opened his eyes, grabbed his reports and said, eyes not looking away from the door, “If you’ll excuse me I have actual work to do aside from finishing outfitting _the_ troops,” and he walked off, ignoring the panicked apologies behind him.

\---

A loud horn went off startling Cullen out of his morning routine; he jerked his straight-razor away from him; With a face still covered in foam, stubbled underneath still,  Cullen opened the upper door and winced against the direct morning sunlight. _What in Thedas is…_ Small black dots in the horizon. He couldn’t judge how many were there maybe four across and deep, some shapes were larger than others; foot soldiers and cavalry on their way to Skyhold. Cullen rushed back in, and began to put on his armor, tying his fastens and clasping his buckles as fast as he could.  His boots took him the longest, he fought with the one place the laces always snagged and accidentally missed one rung before he continued. His sword and daggers were downstairs; he had been polishing them the night before. He could hear the bustle about his troops, hastily getting ready just as he was. Cullen’s mind was racing now- who would attack the keep directly? Surely not Corypheus’ army they had dispersed once their master was slain. Maker, he could not think of who would be attacking,  but they were preparing nonetheless. Almost to the ladder, he caught his reflection and noticed the shaving cream still on his face; so he just grabbed the corner of his sheet and wiped it off his face before he slid down his ladder as quickly as possible and headed to the courtyard below where, thankfully, his second was already shouting out commands and the rest of the Advisers were filtering out as well, looking just as unprepared as he.

 

A scout ran up to him and saluted, “Report, Ser?” the pause and the inflection caught Cullen off guard enough to literally pause his next step.

 

“Go on, what?” he snapped, Lady Trevelyan just coming out to whisper her concern to the Ambassador who just shrugged and shook her head.

 

“I’m not sure there’s much to report. We- we just saw a mass and assumed attack,”  the soldier looked behind him and the other scout nodded, “But the flags, they’re Lady Trevelyan’s flags,” Cullen shot a look to the Inquisitor to see if she heard and when she shook her head quickly, Cullen barked out a quick order, “prepare for battle, do not engage unless necessary;” he turned the Inquisitor, “I’ll ride out to meet them with a small hand of soldiers, see if they were sent by family...or if this is the worst attempt to capture a Keep in military history,” she just nodded, words failing her it seemed.

 

Cullen took off to fit his horse with armor and weapons and had his veterans and an Inquisition flag carrier were all set to go in minutes. They had prepared for this, an attack on the Keep, but...Maker, that was when they first got here and anticipated a _much_ bigger army. But this was no more than 20 people, and no more than 5 horses and one carriage. Cullen sprinted his mount ahead until the first siege tower and dismounted, running up the tower stairs as fast as he could with all this armor on. When he got up to the top, the scouts were talking and looked… unconcerned.

 

“Report, soldiers,” he shouted, fighting the wind to be heard.

“There’s not much to report, Ser- 16 people, assuming the coach has someone in it.  They’re waving the Trevelyan flag and none are brandishing weapons...I’m not sure what else to report,” the scout seemed to genuinely not be concerned and having been trained under both him and Leliana...now his concern was faltering. _Maybe we just lost track of soldiers. Maybe….maybe she’s just forgot some far-off stationed platoon?_

 

“I-thank you,” Cullen pinched the bridge of nose and reached for his spyglass. Sure enough he counted fifteen outside now he was beginning to see facial expressions and none of them were hardened all were laughing and smiling amongst one another, seemingly unconcerned with the approach they were making on the keep. Taking notes of smaller details as where they might have hidden weapons or if there was a large number of soldiers hidden in the snow, but nothing. He took note of the carriage and the shine from the metal dampened the sharpness of what he could see but that was definitely a Trevelyan coach;  yellow and gray and highly detailed right down to the horses and the white- a white flag? Cullen rushed to the side, causing the scouts to appear concerned but he knelt lower to try to combat the reflection of the metal and sure enough under every banner carried was a small white flag and the carriage had one neatly tied.

 

Cullen, against training and judgment, ran down the stairs and mounted his horse, riding out to meet the scout they had sent ahead. It was a young man, wearing grey and yellow riding clothes clearly startled at the fully-armored Commander riding at him at full force but, to his pride, he stood still as Cullen dismounted and placed a hand on his sword, letting him know he was serious but not out-right violent.

 

“Announce yourself,” Cullen shouted, and the boy startled before bowing.

 

“The Lady Trevelyan apologizes Commander,” Cullen’s spine straightened and his brows furrowed, “she wished to hand me to the first person to make contact, although,” he chuckled, “I do believe she was hoping it to be the Inquisitor,” Cullen snatched the parchment and, with his dagger, unceremoniously ripped it open, quickly scanning the contents, a deep unrest settling in the pit of his core.

 

“I see,” he rolled it back up and placed it in an empty surcoat pocket, doing his best to not appear as concerned as he was, “Follow me,” he got to his horse before he issued the last warning, “Know that there are archers strategically placed to pick all of you off one by one if a threat is interpreted. Follow behind me and make no attempt to reach for a weapon, and you’ll all be fine,” Cullen swung himself onto the mount, “Run off and distribute the information and once you’re back here, we’ll head into the Keep”.

 

Cullen situated himself on the horse, the words in the parchment rushing past him and bringing a great, heavy nausea with them;

* * *

 

_To whom it may concern of the Inquisition,_

_Imagine my surprise when I finally managed to escape my captors (a story I will divulge into further with the audience granted) when I arrived home, expecting to be greeted with concern for my well-being in relation to my absence, to find all anyone could ask was about a mark and my adventures saving Thedas. Of course, being held against my will in an isolated Avaar camp didn’t allow for much “Lowlander” nonsense to be spread in the common tongue, but, Maker help me was I surprised to find out that I am the Herald of Andraste, I run a military force called the Inquisition and am doing quite well in the events that sundered the sky. Although I am grateful to finally understand what is going on, I am not pleased to learn of who is running this mess. In attempt to show gratitude for not running my name through the mud, I have not brought an army, I brought an escort to find who has been using my money, my resources and my identity. An explanation I demand from the woman you all know as Lady Trevelyan._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Lady Evelyn Trevelyan of Ostwick_

 


	2. Exposed

 

Cullen trotted through the Keep’s walls and dismounted, a confused group of woman hoping the Commander had an explanation for allowing the small group into Skyhold. But his demeanor confused them even more; his shoulders were pushed forward, a sneer on his face and a bunched up piece of parchment crumpled in his hand as he stalked forward towards the Inq-the  _impostor_ , Leliana and Josephine. Cullen thrusted his hand out to the woman he knew as Evelyn and bit out his anger through a clenched jaw, “Tell me she's lying.”.

 

He had startled her and she took a step back before trying to unfold the paper, concern then shock then panic.

 

“I- Cullen, I can explain,” she reached for his arm and he yanked away from her, her response solidifying his fear.

“It’s Commander, a title _I have_ earned,” he spat out, seething at her; his contempt surfacing already.

A commotion behind him alerted him to the carriage pulling into the keep but he continued,

“I think you owe us an explanation, _Lady_ ,” Cullen stepped away from her and placed a hand on his weapon but did not unsheathe his sword, a warning.

 

“What is going on,” Josephine whispered, and the Inquisitor looked at her with furrowed brows before she took a step back, looking around and just shaking her head.

“Do not even think about running,” Cullen said with a low, threatening growl they had never heard him used when addressed to the Inquisitor.

 

The Spymaster made quick gestures and to Cullen’s terror, some of the members in the crowd directed others to part and to go inside. He noticed as they were all subtly led to the inlet by the stables, away from prying eyes and listening ears. Cullen glanced to Leliana and she was all but directing the whole move with eye movements and slight gestures. _Maker, she’s terrifying._

 

“May I present,” the young man he met prior spoke, calm but sure in his steps as he approached; everyone turned their focus on him but Cullen grabbed the Inquisitor’s mantle before he pushed her forward, slightly “Ah, yes, well, how strange- May I present Lady Evelyn Trevelyan of Ostwick, eldest daughter of the late Bann Trevelyan and current Bann of Ostwick,” he opened the door to stunned silence.

 

A woman emerged in a practical but clearly expensive dress- she wore the same gold Josephine had, but the small accents of grey trimmed her figure to direct attention to her cleavage and the jewels that rested there. The white in her dress was satin, a difficult to procure pure-white that flaunted the wealth she was clearly accustomed to. But the startling feature was the still-healing scar on her lip that looked as painful as Cullen could remember but the one across her neck that led from under one ear and disappeared into the jeweled-encrusted collar. She was what Cullen would have expected as nobility but the plated armor over her chest and rapier at her hip also allowed them to know that she was also dangerous.

 

Andraste preserve him, her neat platinum hair even had jewels that made her hair sparkle and the steel-blue eyes unnerved him. She stepped out with her head high and an unreadable face. She headed to the only person she had seen thus far- Cullen.

 

“You must be the Commander,” she spoke softly as the silence allowed her to.

“I am, Lady Trevelyan,” he bowed, not letting go of his sword.

“Yes, your Ladyship.I believe you wished to have a word with the Inquisitor,” she openly scowled at the mention.

“I do,” her eyes darted and noticed the women standing off to the side and she immediately went towards them, “This must be Lady Montilyet,” she tilted her head towards her, “and the infamous Sister Nightingale,” Leliana stunned face remembered it’s intent and bowed her head, “and you,” she looked to the Inquisitor, dropping her voice an octave, leaning it towards her “must be my lovely little doppelganger,” she didn’t bow, didn’t move- an insult, Cullen thought.

 

“I-uh, I think this would be better discussed inside,” Josephine tried to salvage what was left of the Inquisitor’s reputation,” please follow me,” she looked to Cullen and she nodded quickly and then Cullen remembered,

 

“Uh, yes,” Cullen coughed, offering his arm to her, “If you’ll allow me the honor,” she looked him in the face and then at his extended arm, panic now setting in at how insulting it would be for her to refuse his arm.

 

“I suppose that would be alright, please allow me to fetch my coat,” a servant immediately reached into the carriage for her.

“Of course,” usually he’d disagree without outright searching it but it was cold in Skyhold and time was pressed; the men and women that came with her suddenly shifted their attention

 

“Here you are, Lady,” Cullen snatched it from the man running his hands quickly over it before turning to her; _no weapons hidden, good._

“May I?” he offered up the coat, appearing to genuinely want to do this and she paused slightly but then smiled, softly. The fact that his pulse quickened was a shock to him.

 

“I cannot deny the handsome Commander’s request,” and now he’d gone and blushed.

“That’s very,” she turned from him and displaced her hair, allowing him access to his shoulders...and to the site of her many-many scars he paused and coughed, “That’s very kind,” he placed it on her shoulders and she fastened it quickly so she was again, waiting for his arm.

The walk up to the War Room was probably the most awkward thing he’d have had to endure in the past year; the Commander with the real Evelyn Trevelyan on his arm heading to the woman who had claimed to be Evelyn Trevelyan for the past two, nearly three years.

 

_Maker, I trusted her. I opened up to her. She saw my reaction to Thom’s real identity being brought to light. She has lied to everyone, this can destroy what we have left. EVERYTHING is in danger. I can’t believe-_

 

“If it’s any consolation, I did not wish for it to happen like this,” Cullen looked to the woman on his right and she continued with his attention, “ I know what I’m putting at risk, but this is something... I cannot let this charade, in good conscious, continue,” She didn’t look at him, she had kept her eyes straight ahead- only her eyes darting down to make sure she made every step to the main hall, as graceful as expected.

 

That should’ve been the first clue, he thought, remembering the _Inquisitor’s_ little incidences of what he didn’t expect to be nobility- the way she sat when she’s judging prisoners, the way she ate or drank, the way she spoke, _everything_ . He thought she was just different, knew what it was like for her people, but  no, _no,_ she knew nothing of the lives at stake. He was so-

 

“Well, at least my anger is shared,” he snapped his head to turn to her as the soldiers opened the doors for them into the main hall.

 

“I- I apologize, there’s been a similar issue here already,” Cullen sighed.

“The false warden, I’m assuming,” she must have sensed his annoyance, “I did do my research, Commander, I would not have walked into a potential viper pit so unarmed,” she sighed, “and before you can ask, yes, that includes you Ser Rutherford”.

 

“I do fear that I am not nearly as interesting, Lady Trevelyan,” Cullen stiffened his pose, more for him than her.

 

“You sell yourself short,” she had opened her mouth to continue but was cut off.

 

“I beg your pardon, but the Inquisitor would ask that you leave your weapon in Lady Montilyet’s office, Lady Trevelyan,”

 

He hadn’t even realized that they were in front of the door between a surprisingly pleasant conversation with the _actual_ Lady Trevelyan and being unbelievably pissed with the woman who had _pretended_ to be Lady Trevelyan. _Fuck, you’d think with Corypheus dead, this would’ve been the end of the shit stack_.

 

As soon as they were inside, the Inquisitor went off, “I am _so_ sorry. Really, please I didn’t do it with malicious intent it just….happened,” she was very close to them now and he felt himself take a step back, give himself enough room for his sword as though she were an enemy on the battlefield; a wave of shock locked him for a moment--- _an enemy?_ Cullen looked to the the women he had grown used to working with, discussing politics and war tactics with even the occasional bouts of laughter with; he was on edge, teetering on exploding with the right drop but the women dug their heels in, keeping their faces from betraying whatever was running through their minds. He was never good at that; he could feel the sneer etching into his face, the tension from furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw. Lady Evelyn responded with a hint of animosity and annoyance.

 

“Oh? I’d love to hear the fumbling excuses,” she paused and unclasped her coat, grasping at the fur-lining too tight, her knuckles turning from pink to white. Instinct took in and Cullen think as he removed it from her shoulders, catching her eye for a moment then setting it on the hanger by the door.

 

“Do you recognize me?” she asked quietly and Evelyn paused, and circled her once.

 “Should I?” Her tone neutral to the untrained ear, but to those paying attention, the ice there under the surface.

 “My mother worked for your family,” Evelyn’s eyes shot up to her face, “she was your seamstress,” she paused.

 “My seamstress,” Evelyn stopped in place and glanced through narrowed eyes, “You’re Ida’s daughter...”

 “Yes, I’m” the Inquisitor sucked in a quick breath and shakily continued, “I’m Evangeline”.

 

_Evangeline. How strange to hear it._ Cullen scoffed and turned to pace. _Explains why she preferred Ev and not Evelyn._ He looked back at her, Evelyn, and found he no longer found her fumbling with her hands adorable.

 

“You...you know my name?” She stopped, very close to her and now Evelyn could see why people would mistake this woman for her...but the green eyes gave it away. Evangeline’s eyes were round, soft and seemingly innocent. Evelyn’s were thin, like she was constantly suspicious, and she was, and the only word to describe their colour would be ice.

“I knew Ida well. It happens when you spend hours with your seamstress. She would speak of you sometimes,” she scoffed, eyes widening slightly, “You stole my invitation into the conclave, didn’t you?”

Evangeline’s face crumpled, “Yes, Lady Trevelyan,” her head hung and the uneasy confession made all of the Advisors shift nervously in their varied places in the War Room. Josie was fiddling with her pen, Leliana had stiffened to an unnatural stance and Cullen was still pacing.

 

“You’re the reason people never started looking for me, you know that right?” she turned, walking up to the edge of the War Table, fiddling with one of Cullen’s markers

 “I...I never knew you were missing. No one-,” she was cut off as Evelyn slammed it back down.

 

“Of course not!” Evelyn shouted, “They heard I was fucking around in the Maker damned snow,” Cullen’s eyebrows shot up at the expletives, _that_ he had not expected. “Do you have any idea,” she stopped shouting, inhaled and exhaled slowly, managed to collect herself once more“I went to Starkhaven in secret, rather, I was trying to go to Starkhaven to meet the Prince. Instead, I got ambushed by Avaar warriors. Did you know that there are Avaar camps there? I certainly didn’t. I don’t know how long I was out but I woke bloodied, bruised and rather surprised at the giant tear in the sky,” she huffed, “Imagine my surprise when weeks later, no one was trying to find me. No one was going to help me. No one was going to make them st-nevermind. The point was...that I endured. That I survived. But when I managed to escape to find my stables near empty, my brother _gone_ and Ostwick barely surviving financially,” she started to pace once more, “ _That’s_ when I got angry, _Inquisitor_ ”.

 

“Your brother?” Eve-Evangeline muttered 

“My only surviving sibling, a Templar,” the word cued something in her head,and she turned to Cullen, “speaking of. How did you survive, _Knight_ -Commander?” Cullen winced but replied as though his anger didn’t rise at the implication.

 “Our ship, the one that carried myself, the Seeker and Master Tethras from Kirkwall hit a nasty patch of weather, made us move a bit slower. That was our saving grace,” Cullen said flatly, annoyed at the accusatory tone of the initial question.

 “Good, you’re not a coward, then,” she looked him up and down, before looking to the other advisors” and I suppose you two were, what,  waiting for them at the dock?” Leliana and Josephine nodded, Cullen now very interested as to why Leliana’s spies never knew about the deception.

 

“I apologize, Lady...Trevelyan,” Josephine spoke up,” Perhaps we can continue this after we settle you in,” Josie looked to the Inquisitor whose eyes had never left the ground and tears had begun to form, threatening to pool over the edge. Remembering how seeing her upset once would upset him, the muscle memory kicked in and he found that he still wanted to tell her that it was alright, that everything would fix itself before his temper caught the better of him and he looked away, turning to face the actual Lady Trevelyan.  Still, Cullen felt some semblance of guilt.

 

“Yes, we need to restore some order,” Cullen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I suppose those close enough to hear are still frantic out there. I doubt we’ll be able to stop the spread of gossip, but at least we can attempt order”.

 “Do you intend to shout at them until they all scurry away?” Leliana spoke up and Cullen felt himself grind his teeth at her.

 “If you have any other suggestions,” he bit back.

 “Let them squabble, they’ll decide if their loyalty is to who they thought Ev- Evangeline was pretending to be or if they’re loyal to who the Inquisitor is, to her actions,” Leliana’s brow shot up, “Josie seems to have had an influence on you if you’re truly worrying about the face of the Inquisition,” Cullen scoffed, gathered his reports from the table and began to head for the door.

 

“Perhaps,” Josie said, still looking worried, “Perhaps Commander Cullen can escort her Ladyship to one of the guest chambers, then? A break to let us...consider and evaluate what comes next?”

 “That’s fine,” Lady Trevelyan said, “I don’t think we’ll settle anything tonight anyway” she walked over to the coat hanger and placed it on her shoulders without looking at anyone and headed for the door.

 “Let us reconvene in the morning after we’re all rested,” Josie said quickly to make sure she was heard.

 

Lady Trevelyan paused, looked over her shoulder, “Of course,” and continued to make her way to the door. Cullen looked to Josie who nodded towards Lady Trevelyan; he rolled his eyes, shook his head and did as he was “asked”.  Cullen’s mind was racing with the implications of what was to come, of what they had to fix- _if_ they could fix it and he did as she asked, anything to make the night shorter. _Maker I need a drink,_ he caught a glimpse of her hand and noticed it shaking, before she gripped into the sides of her dress.

 

“Let me escort you to your chamber, Lady Trevelyan, the way there is a bit ass-backwards,” he stopped and winced at his words, too late to change them.

“There’s a lot of that around here, I think,” she said tersely

 

He led her to the room in silence, well he assumed her room, it was the one they always assigned to passing nobles. Thankfully he was right. The weight of the situation was beginning to weigh heavily on both of them. Cullen opened the door for her and when he opened his mouth to apologize to her, once more, on behalf of the Inquisition she shut it in his face.

 

He shouldn’t have expected anything else, they were responsible for what was happening to her. The organization he once was proud to work for now cause doubts to surface.

 

\---

As soon as Lady Trevelyan had shut the door, the Inquisitor let out a shuddering sigh that Josephine had only heard once prior. After Stroud had been left in the fade the Inquisitor, _Evangeline_ , Lady Montilyet reminded herself, had a difficult time explaining her decisions but ultimately it came down to not wanting to cause more heartache in Varric’s life and for that personal reason, Marian Hawke still lives. And yet, the guilt of his death had caused that exasperated sigh to leave her lips and now it befell them again.

 

“Inquisitor,” Josephine spoke quietly,  “Why,” her voice came out more whisper than expected, “-Why didn’t you tell us?”

 “I didn’t think…,” she inhaled, the cogs in her mind whirring, her eyes darting back and forth searching for the words her mind was filtering through, “Maker, forgive me, I am- was, just a daughter of a seamstress. I wanted to go, wanted to see…”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Leliana interrupted, “The Commander, though gruff in his words, made an excellent point. She may be the rightful owner of the name Trevelyan but _you_ are the rightful heir to the title Inquisitor”.

 “Thank you, Leliana,” Evangeline looked up, “You always make excellent points to encourage me in my unsureness. And you, Josie,” she smiled, “Always a kind word and ready to help” she paused and took a slow inhale, “So, I am releasing you both from your duties”.

 

The Ambassador snapped her head in the direction of the Inquisitor, shock in her face and her posture stiff, the Spymaster, however, turned slowly and calmly answered, “And if I do not wish my duties to end here?”

 “What?”

 “You think I care about you not being Lady Trevelyan?” she offered, walking closer to Evangeline, “You are my friend. You have been kind, just and thoughtful in how you present yourself. And how you present the Inquisition,” she smiled, “Personally, I enjoy where I’m at.”

 “As do I,” Josephine piped up, “Inquisitor, I think...I think we can keep every bit of legitimacy here. Of course, having Lady Trevelyan work with us will help us in that manner. If..,” she looked to Leliana, “If we can get her to work with us, that is”

 “Oh, I’m sure she will see we can be persuasive”. Leliana smiled.

 “Maker, I am glad you two are on my side”, Evangeline smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please enjoy the second chapter! Please leave love, comments, suggestions, etc.


	3. A Foolish Plan

The knock on Cullen’s door startled him; he was focused on filling out reports and trying to keep his mind focused on anything but the current situation when the sudden noise made his ‘y’s tail a little too long. He sighed, stretched, and opened the door to find one of Leliana’s messengers.

 

“Ser, Lady Montilyet and Leliana request your presence in the War Room as soon as possible,” she stood at parade rest until he replied with a quick nod and then she carried on with her other messages.

 

Grabbing his surcoat, Cullen quickly started to make it to the War Room. Outside a few of the escorts from Lady Trevelyan’s were mounting their horses and heading back; there were heavy packs and well-worn heavy jackets ready for the ride out.  _ Good, the fewer unknown faces the better. _ Cullen opened the door to the main hall and was immediately hounded by questions; Varric asked what was going on and even Madame de Fer peeked down from her perch, neither of them got a reaction of him, but he knew they would need to be addressed soon. He had to cancel training from the confusion and upset and  _ that _ upset him as he was hoping the exercise would exhaust him and make him unable to focus on anything other than training. When he unlocked the door he was met with hushed, tense whispers that stopped when he pushed the door wide enough for him to walk in .

 

“Good, you got my note,” Leliana said flatly, while standing over an unbelievable stack of papers spread from one end of the War Table to the other and Josie was pouring a glass of Antivan brandy for all of them.

 

Cullen took the glass offered to him but immediately set it down in front of him, “What is going on? The meeting, I mean”.

 

“We’re looking into how much damage will be done once her identity is well known throughout Thedas,” Josie sighed, “I just don’t know how-if we can resolve this. The money is one thing, those were made to the Inquisition but how much was given  _ because _ they thought she was a Trevelyan?” she slammed her glass down and startled herself, “I apologize”. Leliana sent her a quick glance and Josie seemed to settle, slightly less fidgety than a moment prior.

 

“What I am curious to know is why my spies were none the wiser. Lady Trevelyan, apparently, isn’t even a mage,” her nose scrunched up as she picked up a note, then tossed it aside,   “When they reported back who she was I assumed-maybe my faith in them was ill-placed given the circumstances,” Leliana looked to Josie and placed a hand on her arm, the Antivan handling the news the worst.

 

“Not a mag-We-we were a newly established organization,” Cullen offered but soon his own anxieties poured out as well, “Though I do...worry that the same can be said for the soldiers. How many men and women volunteered for this cause under the assumption that a noble family was behind it all? I don’t know if we’ll lose numbers in our army or if we can be expected to be attacked under false pretenses?” Cullen felt the weight starting to settle once more and now sipped at the brandy he had set down.

 

“What if…” Josie said quietly, “What if we lose everything because of this…”

 

“We won’t, Ambassador,” Cullen rounded and placed a hand on her shoulder, “She’s still the Inquisitor who defeated Corypheus. That must mean something to those snakes”.

 

“I suppose, it does not matter now,” Leliana muttered, “There are already rumors spreading, but so far no one has left. Wanting to hear the news themselves, I suppose,” Leliana kept rummaging placing them into certain piles.

 

“What are you doing, Spymaster?” Cullen asked.

 

“Sorting through the few communications I thought were important to find any hint of this” she didn’t look up from the papers.

 

“Few? Sorry- I” he sighed, “I don’t know how we’ll do this. Who will want to stand behind a woman who’s lied, who has stolen and has tricked so many into believing she was something,”

Cullen stopped, realizing he wasn’t worried about the other’s reactions...he was worried about his.

 

“You need to snap out of it. We need to be the ones that are seen as her supporters,  _ despite _ personal beliefs,” Leliana retorted.

 

“No,” Cullen responded quickly, “I will not be forced into another situation where my decisions are taken from me. I will not be a puppet to  _ anyone _ anymore!” The women across the table stiffened, and only then did he realize he was nearly shouting, “I- I apologize”. Now he noticed the lyrium-deprived headache.

 

“Perhaps we should get to the point of the meeting at hand,” Josie sighed, “How are we going to act  _ tomorrow _ ? I know that an overall decision can’t be made, but we need a plan to try to sort this out”.

 

“Depends- are we including Lady Trevelyan? Or even the Inquisitor? Our  _ friend _ ” Leliana mused.

 

“We need to include both. Hopefully they’ll be able to settle things on their own but in the meantime we should prepare for the worst” Cullen sighed, the pounding in his head amplified.

 

“I’ll have my scouts watch everyone and I’ll continue to dig into the past to see where this slipped up in the first place,” Leliana leaned against the table again, “and this time  _ I’ll _ make sure that everyone is who they say they are and rectify those who are  _ not _ ”. The meaning made Cullen shift in his place, knowing what it would mean if people just went  _ missing _ in the next few days.

 

“I’ll have a meeting with the Inquisitor before breakfast then with the Lady in the morning after breakfast. See what both want and figure out how difficult this will be to resolve this rather unfortunate incident”.

 

“I suppose I’ll attempt to train as usual, keep up the facade. Other than that I’ll keep to my office” Cullen ran his hands through his hair before he managed to take a deep breath.

 

“I do believe Lady Trevelyan will be interested in an audience, Commander,” Leliana said with a smirk in her voice.

 

“And?” Cullen bit.

 

“She seems to have the least amount of issues with the Templar  _ hero _ from Kirkwall,” Leliana was walking towards him. Now he was nervous.

 

“Yes, her family is-was, very indebted to their service,” Josie agreed, scribbling notes, “Perhaps she will be more inclined to speak with you”.

 

“Maker’s breath. Why am  _ I _ always bait with you two,” He slumped his shoulders then folded his arms, defeat already evident, “Alright, what do you want me to do?”


	4. Oldest Trick in the Book

Cullen could not believe that he was doing this. Now standing outside the oak door he knocked on the Lady Trevelyan’s door. Quick, loud knocks to gain her attention. He was surprised when she opened the door so quickly after the third knock. She was much shorter than he remembered yesterday and with a quick glance he noted a pair of boots with heels on them that quickly answered his question. Her room was...not what he expected; clothes were strewn in some places, her bed forgone and a bundle of furs on the floor told him she slept there instead. His nosey inquiry caused her to pull the door closer to hers and she finally spoke.

 

“What is it, Commander?” Her hair was braided and she was wearing what appeared to be some strange take on riding clothes.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Cullen bowed his head, “I was wondering if there was anyway you’d allow me to steal a moment of your time?”

She pulled the door closer to her body, “Why?”

_ She’s uneasy. _ Cullen took a step back and rubbed his neck, “I was going to walk the grounds and I was wondering if you’d like a tour,” he forced a smile, “two birds, one stone as it was”.

 

She opened the door slightly and leaned closer, “Oh. I apologize, I don’t take well to strangers still,” she paused, her eyes seemingly focused on his boots, “Yes, I suppose that would be nice. Bit of fresh air. Give me a moment,” she shut the door.

  
  


Assuming she’d be longer than a moment Cullen found the place with the most light and began to look over the newest report. A list of casualties and a list of those injured, as well as an update on the Red Templars and Venatori’s newest actions.

 

“Are reports that interesting,” he jumped at her voice ,” Sorry”.

“No, it’s fine, I just,” he tucked it back into his coat,” hadn’t had the chance to go over it yet”.

“Ah,” she was tightening her coat, “Well, shall we?” she offered her hand and, he saw the scars on her hands from the shadows the light cast.

 

Cullen took her hand and led her down towards the chapel in the gardens. But not before he caught Leliana’s man slip into the door behind him. Cullen sighed and she looked up at him as if she knew why he had asked her to this little excursion, his guilt prodding his side.

 

Once outside she was the one who broke the silence in the near-empty gardens, “I didn’t used to sleep on the floor, you know,” she said quietly as she leaned in to smell the Vandal Aria, “Just got used to it”.

“I- I didn’t, I mean,” Cullen stuttered, “I wasn’t judging, just...saw”.

She laughed lightly, “It’s fine. The Avaar were...strange people. Violent and physical but also wise and spiritual. Sometimes even kind,” she plucked a petal from the plant and rubbed her fingers across the surface.

 

Cullen was stunted for words, he didn’t plan on this- having to converse with her he was just doing as asked. Andraste must have sensed his uneasiness as she continued, still focusing on the petal in her hand.

 

“But they took me far into the woods. I had never seen so many plants and such strange wildlife,” she clenched her fist, crumpling the petal, “but I learned how cruel nature could be and how much I was at the mercy of these people,” she looked to him now, “After a year I started worshiping their gods with them I started to like these people and yet here I am. Back in midst of the Chantry’s bullshit and playing at being a noblewoman once more”.

 

“It must have been a life changing event to shake your worldview so much,” Cullen stepped in front of her so she’d look at him, “You did research on me...you know what happened in Kinloch and in Kirkwall I assume,” she nodded her head, thankfully saving him the trouble of explaining, “Those things shook me as well. But it was the Maker who guided me here instead of in the throes of Red Lyrium. It was the Maker that led me to know that my former Knight-Commander was not in her right mind, “he sighed loudly, “ It was the Maker who let me survive long enough to make a positive turnaround in my life. And I think the Maker gave you the strength you needed to survive the...hardships you encountered as well”.

 

“You really are a man of faith, aren’t you?” she looked at him, eyebrows pinched.

“Yes,” was all he could muster under her stare.

“That’s encouraging,” she turned away, and walked to towards the gazebo and he followed in suit.

 

She sat down on a bench and gestured to the rest of the bench so he sat quietly with her. Cullen didn’t get these moments often, the silence of the garden was strange to hear instead of the loud clanging of the training field. But it was enjoyable. He caught a whiff of her perfume before the wind changed direction. His expression soured as it was the one Eve- _ Evangeline _ wore as well.  Cullen snuck a glance at her and she was staring off to the small portion of the mountain that was visible. The way she sat was different, it was what he expected of a noble; one ankle tucked behind the other, back straight and shoulders back. Her nails manicured, but unpolished. A few rings on her hands and the lace of her sleeve showed the expertise of the person who made it. The woman underneath that, though, was not as he expected. Scarred, deceptively timid and prone to outbursts of anger. That he could relate to. They sat in awkward silence and probably would’ve kept at it had a runner not come up to him delivering a new “report”. It was one of Leliana’s scouts letting him know they were done.

 

“I suppose we should finish the tour so you can return to your duties,” she said as she stood and reluctantly he agreed.

  
  


He showed her the grounds, the kitchen, the library, the tavern and the Mages’ Tower. She took a step back from it when he told her what it was and looked to him, before regaining her ground.  _ I’ve been there as well. Perhaps a story for later. _ When he returned her to her quarters he told her he’d come get her for dinner if she’d like and he left her to the silence of her room.

Once she shut and locked the door she took a look around and noticed the sliver of parchment she had placed against the handle was displaced; someone entered her room after her.

 

* * *

 

Cullen walked slowly back to his office. The reports in his coat nothing more than supply updates and droll invitations to  _another_ Winter Palace dance. Shrugging off his surcoat Cullen  hadn't noticed, hadn't felt the shift in the air. Cullen had started unclasping his armor. He found comfort in the task, the same belts and fastens removing the literal weight off his shoulders. Placing his breastplate on the stand Cullen reached down into the chest that held his armor maintenance supplies. He rummaged trough the cloths & oils before he found the polish. Cullen placed the phial on the window's ledge and then he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand to attention.

 

"She's sacred, and so, so angry," Cole's voice made Cullen jump. Instinctively Cullen placed a hand on his chest.

"Maker's breath, Cole," Cullen leaned back onto his desk and the Spirit tilted his head slightly up, just enough for them to make eye-contact.

Cole's eyes were looking right through him and Cullen had to physically make himself not shudder at the creature before him.

"Cold, damp grass. Branches, blood and bile. Painted skin and braided hair, a fight of past ad present, and," Cole's head snapped in another direction and Cullen found himself unable to not look at the corner of the room Cole was suddenly so interested in and...

Gone.

"Cole?" Cullen looked around him and nothing. Cullen let out a long-winded sigh. "I'm getting too fucking old for this".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing this adventure with me! Please leave kudos, comments & love as you like <3 Ma serranas!


	5. Out of the Frying Pan...

That night they were all called for dinner, _the_ dinner. Evelyn forgoed the heavily jeweled Orlesian  dress and placed on what she had started to become accustom to; a loose knit dress lined with fur. It was one of the few things she kept from that time. That and the memories of the scars on her body.

 

_Lass, I have never claimed a better trophy than you._

_I am not your trophy, heathen._

_Oh, you say that now, but in time you’ll understand how little your Maker means here._

_Fuck you._

_Not until you beg me for it._

 

Evelyn dropped the brush that was in her hand and let out an exasperated sigh. Some nights she could remember how he smelled. She’d wake up and instinctively reach for him. And how sick she would feel once she realized that she _missed_ the bastard who stole her off the road. Evelyn picked up the brush and set it on the nightstand, deciding to braid instead of have her hair down naturally; “ _Loose hair is dangerous in battle”_.  

 

Hair out of her face, and a small hidden dagger on her hip, Evelyn felt more assured of herself. Remembering her intent, she placed small dabs of perfume on her wrists and kept as steady of hand as she could to apply kohl to her eyes. In her reflection she could see the battle paint on her; blue and white and….frenzy-inducing. Even doing her make-up now she felt the urge to do it in the pattern she was used to painting on herself and the others. But this was not about the Avaar she left behind. It was the life that was stolen from her instead on her tongue.

_Take back the life you are owed._

 

Evelyn put on her jewelry slowly remembering how often he’d tut her for keeping such unnecessary things. Still, she remembered her Mother placing them around her neck when she came of age. She remembered her Father smiling as she beamed up at him, saying how proud he was of her. Still tying the gems around her wrist, she felt some sort of guilt. She shouldn’t but she did.

 

Evelyn fingered her necklace before tucking it out of sight. And with one last glance-over, she started to head down to dinner. Rounding the corner she nearly bumped into someone.

 

“Oh, Maker, I’m sorry,” Commander Cullen stopped in his tracks, “I came to escort you to the dinner”.

  _You mean watch me._ “I appreciate it, I was hoping to find it myself,” she looked to Cullen and noticed him shift his stance, and reach behind to rub his neck “but, now that you’re here I can’t turn you down, can I?” She smiled warmly and watched his eyes soften and offered her one in return. _His smile is as unsure as he is about my imposter._

 

He offered his arm and she took it lightly and watched as he stiffened when she stroked his arm with her thumb and began making small talk. He offered her back the same polite bullshit back, talking about Skyhold and the small construction projects they passed, “Apparently, there are a few alcoves that needed the stone replaced, and a section in the library that had some wood with termites,”

“Maybe they wanted to read” she said absentmindedly and he chuckled.

“Yes, I’m sure they’re fond of all that lovely poetry Cassandra insists she didn’t order”.

“Are you?” Evelyn smirked.

“Am I what?” His eyebrow shot up.

“Interested in that poetry?” Her smirk grew just a little at his expression.

“I, uh- No, I…”

“Oh? I believe you called it lovely”

“That’s not what I-”

 

“Ah, there you are Command--Oh, hello, there,” Dorian extended his hand to her and she looked to Cullen who looked less amused than he had moments prior.

She extended her hand slowly and tersely as she immediately noticed the staff on his back.

“Ah, don’t worry, I am a Tevinter mage, but as you see I am a handsome Tevinter mage and no threat at all,” she took his hand in hers,” Dorian Pavus”

“Evelyn Trevelyan,” she watched his face contort as he processed what she said.

“Funny, darling, but probably not smart to pretend to be our lovely Inquis-,” Dorian’s head slightly ticked towards Cullen’s face and then he shot back stunted for a moment, “Well..this is awkward”.

“Yes it is,” Evelyn shifted slightly to Cullen and he caught her uneasiness when she grabbed on to his arm.

“Sorry, Dorian, I need to escort Lady Trevelyan. Would you excuse us?”

“Ah, yes, by all means,” Dorian side-stepped and as soon as he was out of earshot Cullen heard her exhale slightly.

 

“Are you...alright?” Cullen asked quietly.

“Fine,” she relaxed slightly.

“Do mages make you,” Cullen asked tentatively.  
“Yes,” was all she said and Cullen didn’t press her any further because he _knew_ what she was feeling; he glanced to her scars and then back to the ground before he let slip anything. But he knew that feeling as he still harbored similar ones himself.

 

The rest of the way was tense as no words were spoken and he knew that there was something more than just discomfort at Dorian’s presence.

 

When they got to the door, she did something he did not expect. She turned to him and asked him, “How do I look?”

Cullen was stunned for a moment and he fell to the first polite thing that came to his mind, “You look beautiful,” Cullen felt his eyes widen and his face redden then all but clasped his hands over his mouth, took a step forward and paused once more “I-I apologize I,” Cullen sighed, “That was inappropriate,”.

“It’s fine, Commander,” she looked at him, Maker, she really looked _at_ him and he stood petrified as she reached up to flip the part of his collar that had flipped over, “I don’t mind if _you_ find me attractive,” she ran her hand slightly down his chest enough to make Cullen hold his breath, “ I think you’re very handsome yourself,” she smiled and fidgeted with the bracelet just as the doors began to open and she turned away from him just before he felt his face redden.

 

Cullen straightened up when he saw it was Rainer... _Blackwall_ … open the door, “Mistress Trevelyan,”  she took a step back, feigning a frightened Lady, he shot a look to Cullen and Cullen tensed, half-taking a step in front of her to show her she was safe, “Commander,” he bowed his head slightly, “Ambassador Montilyet has asked me to let Lady Trevelyan know that there is paperwork to be signed either prior to the dinner or tomorrow aft-,” he was cut off.

 

“After,” Evelyn said then looked to Thom, “I am not signing anything until we discuss how much was spent, how much is still in the coffers and how we are planning to remain amicable throughout this situation. Let the Ambassador know that I am well aware of the players in this game and I am ready play it fully,” she paused long enough for Thom to assume she was done and start to turn to head to Lady Montilyet office, “Ser Rainer,” he turned once more, “ Let the ambassador know that I plan to stay here and let my doppelganger keep up the facade for some time. This decision doesn’t need to be made tonight,” Rainer nodded and began to make his way to deliver the message.

 

Cullen watched her tense when she was talking to Blackwall. He watched her quickly steer the conversation to be in her court and watch him immediately fall into the role he was expected to. She made him a messenger of her plans and took no instruction from him. She watched him start to dismiss her and she put him in his place. Cullen also noted that she pulled up the side of her dress and noticed then that there was a dagger hidden under the top layer of her dress, tucked away under thick fabric that only gave evidence it was there when she turned slightly. _The Avaar dress is meant for concealing weapons…_ But something more telling was that she had her back to him. Either she trusts him...or she’s playing him too. What was worse, though, was that he _wanted_ her to. She could play at him or trust him and he didn’t care. Maker, he hated himself but he was done playing nice. Corypheus was dead. His contract as the Inquisition’s army Commander, _technically_ was fulfilled. He was done playing with nobles that manipulated their way into the Keep, tired of wondering who in the Keep was a spy or a traitor, tired of letting his life be dictated by a woman he no longer trusted to lead him….to a woman that _he_ no longer trusted.  Mostly, he was tired of this life. How in Thedas was he supposed to keep loyalty to a woman who kept this from all of her supposed closest friends. He wanted to fix the grand fuck up that was having an Inquisitor that was a liar, thief ,and  one who was willing to risk everyone’s life involved.

 

“Commander,” she spoke softly, and he turned, “would you do me the honor of sitting next to me?”

 

Cullen offered her his hand to her, “Of course, my Lady”.

“My lady is it now,” she smiled and looked to him, and Maker help him, he wanted it. He wanted this little indulgence, whatever it was. He wanted to make a selfish decision and she kept giving him an in...what if he just did? What if he just took the offer just this once?

 

“Ah, Lady Trevelyan,” Josephine said, the smile on her face wrinkling her eyes slightly, “and Commander,” please, come sit. Lady…,” she faltered slightly, “Lady Evangeline is just finishing up and Sister Leliana is already inside”.

 

“Thank you, Ambassador,” she tilted her head towards her, with a rigid spine and Cullen could hear her annoyance underneath it all. _Whys does she trust me? Because I was a Templar?_ “Shall we, Commander?”

 

He catches it, the slight confusion on Josephine’s brow at the Lady Trevelyan’s sudden and apparent alliance with Cullen. But that was their plan, wasn’t it? For him to get close to her so they could have an insight into her intentions and motives? Cullen looks to Josephine keeps eye contact and ever-so-slightly just nods, making her complacent for a time. But his mind was racing just slightly more than his heart. Until she looks back at him.


	6. ...Into the Fire

They entered the well-lit dining room and he immediately noticed Evelyn become the woman he expected the Inquisitor to be. Her spine straightened, head tilted up and shoulders went back; Maker, she was ready for a fight. But, surprisingly she sat down quietly at where the servant sat her and sipped the water that had been poured for her. A quick glance to Josephine and he could see that the fake calm demeanor waned when the Inquisitor’s heels were clicking louder and louder. When the doors opened to reveal the Inquisitor she was in a lavish indigo dress that spoke mostly of the wealth that was not hers but it was then that Cullen noticed a smirk on the woman’s lips. Once the Inquisitor sat down and every non-essential staff left, she spoke.

 

“I understand that you wish to go over the paperwork tomorrow?” Evangeline was playing her part of the Inquisitor, which Josephine definitely coached.

 

Cullen knew he was mostly not involved in this part of the discussion so he did what he planned to do: drown out the boring political bullshit with what he hoped was hard liquor. It was not. It was wine. Cullen huffed, but poured himself a glass and looked to the Lady next to him who gave a small nod and he poured her one as well. Leliana never drank during these meetings and the Inquisitor was a damned light weight.

 

“Yes. Although I understand that there is a lot to discuss,” she took the wine and fingered the stem of her glass seemingly inspecting the quality of the crystal but she was smelling it’s contents. Then without any preamble, downed the contents of the goblet. Her face soured,

“That shit is dry,’ she pushed it from her and Cullen stifled a chuckle.

 

“Would you like something else? We have brandy, whiskey, rum,” she was interrupted.

“Ale, beer, mead,”  she poured water into her cup, “anything but that”. Josephine gestured to one of the servants who promptly took off.

“I do apologize, I’m usually so good at picking and choosing what our guests would like”.

“It’s fine Ambassador Montilyet,” she smiled politely, “But I spent far too long with the Avaar to admit that I still like the things I don’t”.

 

“Were they,” the Inquisitor spoke, and the entire room’s attention shifted to her,  “Were they as awful as the rumors?”

“Are you asking if they tore the clothes off my back and bent me over a table for a turn?” For a moment, Cullen had horrid visions in his mind of people doing just that; he wasn’t so naive to think that it wasn’t a possibility for Lady Trevelyan to have gone through some awful scenarios until her scoff punctuated the end of her sentence. _She’s joking; maker she is good at making her opponent off balance._ Cullen found himself, again, trying not to snicker especially with the Inquisitor looking so dumb-founded, but he would be lying if he wasn’t concerned about the Avaar. Their views on relationships were...tricky.

 

“No, I-I simply,” Evelyn interrupted her.

“They were civilized,” Evelyn shifted her posture and was now leaning in as if ready to tell a tale by the fire, arms on her legs and smirked widely, “They, obviously,” she gestured to her healing scars, “had some issues, but they never laid a hand on me in that manner,” a kitchen maid came in with the ale, poured a cup for the guest and left as soon as she was there.

“I apologize for being so insensitive,” and with that the Lady Trevelyan actually laughed and Leliana just looked to Josie who looked to Cullen who just shrugged.

 

“Frankly, fuck your insensitivities,” she leaned back into the chair and all of a sudden the throne-styled chair that the Inquisitor was sitting in could have been garderobe in an ancient building, “I am not here to play onto what was good intentions. I have no use in that sort of sentimentality. What I need are answers on how we are to fix my now...questionable decisions that were made on my behalf”.

 

“I’m sorry I thought we were keeping the talks until after the dinner, tomorrow, ” the Ambassador interrupted.

“I lied,” she sipped her beer, “It’s better that there was nothing really prepared for when this conversation happened,” she sat the goblet down on the table and even Cullen was surprised at that admittance.

“I think it is time our negotiations were cut short,” Leliana said and stood up.

“I don’t believe you were a part of this decision, _Sister_ ,” she didn’t look up to Leliana and instead kept looking at the nervous Inquisitor. Cullen tensed as _no one_ has ever directly confronted yet alone insulted the spymaster.

“I think what our Spymaster means,” Josephine interrupted to attempt to save this….whatever it had become, “is that we do not know what you want and therefore we cannot make the decisions as we are not sure how they will affect the decisions that have already been made”

“Right, like backing the apostates when my family has clear Templar roots? Like keeping an outright liar who impersonated military personnel, a “Warden” in the keep that threatened to put every _actual_ Grey Warden at risk?” Her voice was an iced over lake that threatened to crack with the wrong placement of pressure.

 

“If I may,” Cullen sat up and leaned in, “To no one’s surprise, not all condone the Mages being here,” everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats, “But...I assure you that these mages have been under Templar watch”

 

She scoffed, “What, a handful of Templars to essentially unrestrained mages? Who sided with the Tevinter Imperium….willingly”.

“There have been no possessions,” the Inquisitor added, “Every mage has kept their word”.

“The Templars,” Cullen added but now Evelyn’s fury had come out and his attempt at placating her was for naught.

“You think I give two shits what they said? They sided with the bloody Imperium. I do not trust them and I certainly do not trust you”.

“You _simply_ do not have a choice” Leliana sneered and Evelyn turned quickly at her indignant comment.

“I can bring this Maker damned establishment to the fucking ground, Spymaster, if I send or do not send the right words to the right people, you should know the value of that”

“You should know that I can make people disappear as well,” Leliana said cooly

“I am not afraid of you, my life has already been taken from me,” Evelyn countered

“You overstep your bounds, assuming I will change what has already been done” the Inquisitor bit back, her face pinched in displeasure.

“I don’t expect you to change shit,” Evelyn retorted, her anger rising to the surface once more, “but what I do expect _Lady_ is for the decisions made henceforth under the guise of my identity will involve me being consulted with first,” she stood up and placed her hands on the table, “Do you understand, _Inquisitor_ ”.

 

“I understand, Lady Trevelyan, that I did what I thought was best. I wanted to give those who have been constantly thrown around a chance to prove they are capable of restraint and courage much like their Templar counterparts”.

 

“I am genuinely surprised that your childlike enthusiasm hasn’t gotten you killed” she shifted her stance and Cullen saw the outline of her dagger, panicking that he might actually have to restrain her because she was going to be a pit viper about it.

 

“And I’m surprised that your calculating cold-heart hasn’t gotten a knife in your back” Evangeline started to stand but was cut short.

 

“Ladies,” Josephine interrupted, “Look, I know that this isn’t ideal. For anyone. But, Lady Trevelyan,” she looked pleadingly to Evelyn who sat down, but never took her eyes off of the Ambassador,  “we put every conceivable fail-safe we could think of to ensure that the lives in our hands were not blindly gambled. We did our best with what we were given in such a dire circumstance. I know you’re angry, and rightfully so, but this is less about you and more about what we did in relation to your title, your family name, yes?”

 

“What was that in the Canticle of Light about pride?” Leliana mocked.

 

“What pride had wrought,” Cullen recited half-staring at the contents of his goblet and half trying not to openly groan at what might happen and at that Leliana smiled like a damned cheshire cat at Evelyn’s scoff.

 

“And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost,” Evelyn cited, calmly, and looked to Cullen, “If you think citing the Chant at me is going to dissuade me you are surely mistaken”.

 

Cullen’s brows shot up, not realizing that his mindless reciting made it appear as though he was accusing, not just there. His mind was now vaguely hazy, the alcohol on an empty stomach not sitting well. While he sat there in his high-backed chair he stared at the center bouquet, replaying in his mind when he once thought of sending the Inquisitor flowers when they….when they were sweet on one another. Cullen shot a glance on the Inquisitor, watching her face contort into poorly-concealed emotions and for the life of him he could not focus on their words. Tilting his head towards the Spymaster he knew she was seething; it was in the way her shoulders were too stiff and her jaw kept clenching. He knew she was going to do everything in her power to fuck this over behind the scenes. But when he looked at Lady Trevelyan he found he was just as worried about the ammunition she already held against the Inquisition.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. He had worked too hard to build up the army here. He had spent too many hours with his men, garnering real trust and camaraderie to simply pack his bags in the middle of the night. Emptying the last of what was in his cup, he poured himself another, catching the glances of the annoyed women who briefly thought about yanking him back into the conversation before the Ambassador saved him from the fire.

 

Josephine cut in once more, “So, what I’m gathering, Lady Trevelyan,” Josephine sat up, and grasped her hands together, “Is that you wished to be involved in the decisions we make henceforth?”

“Yes,” Evelyn said tersely.

“You understand that this means that our dear Inquisitor must keep up the appearance of being you, and you just wish to be here until,” Josephine opened up for her to add in any addition she wanted.

“Until what was in Ostwick is restored, and the political bullshit you’ve all pulled my name into is in a state I feel comfortable with leaving,” Evelyn leaned back, less agitated than before.

“Which is?” Josephine asked.

“We need more Templars here. I don’t feel safe with this much unrestricted magic whirring about,” Evelyn huffed.

“That undermines what I guaranteed them,” Evangeline shouted, horrified at having her oath revoked, “safety from their Templar,” Cullen winced, _Their Templar jailors._ Maker, he hated that saying.

“I really don’t care about the promises you made,” Evelyn bit out

“If,” Josephine said firmly, “If a few more Templars are added, say 10 for now? Would that suffice?” Evelyn paused and nodded. Thank the Maker, Cullen reached for his goblet and the contents within.

“I would also request,” The Inquisitor added, “ for you to be escorted around the Keep when there are too many people here,” she bit and Lady Trevelyan nodded, her face blank while her mind whirred about.

“Fine, my addition to that request would be that it if I am to be escorted it would be by the Commander, preferably,” Cullen nearly spit out his ale.

“Sorry?” Cullen asked when he could manage.

“You were a Templar, yes?” She looked to him as if he asked a question she just answered.

“Yes, of course,” he looked to Josephine and, reluctantly, to the Inquisitor, “Is there a problem with that other than it taking me from my duties every so often?”

“I do not believe that will be an issue,” Josephine offered, but he saw Evangeline’s eyes dart between himself and the Ambassador. He saw the look of confusion buried under the contempt.

“Alright, then,” Cullen leaned back, trying to lie to himself that it was the annoyance of being pried from duties that was making his heart beat faster. 

 

* * *

 

By the time “dinner” was done Cullen just wanted to sleep. They argued and jabbed at one another for hours. Josephine did her best with no warning, Leliana looked as if she was going to lean over and stab Evelyn and Evangel-....Evangeline was just upset about the whole ordeal. _Upset that this was not going as planned._

 

A knock on his office door startled him but before he could answer, it had opened.

 

“By all means, come in,” Cullen dipped his quill and continued what he was doing, and shot an annoyed look at the intruder. He _had_ expected a soldier, maybe the new errand boy, but it was the Inquisitor. Cullen pushed back from the desk and sat up straight, neatly folding his hands out in front of him.

“What was _that_ about?” she bit as soon as the door was slammed behind her.

“I don’t-,” he was going to feign ignorance, but she was having none of it.

“Why didn’t you help? You sat in silence as she threatened all of us!” she came around his desk and for the first time he felt her pull in her magic. _A flash of a fireball, the warmth warning him of how lucky he had been. The splash of blood on his face as a Templar killed them with one quick stroke before another mage, a young girl, did as he was praying she wouldn’t…_

 

Cullen stood up quickly. _Too close_ , _too close, get out, get away._ He banged his knee on the side of his desk, ignoring the pain to get away but he managed to place himself between her and the door. She followed, pursued him as fast.

 “Where are you going, answer me!” she was shouting. Her posture giving him a real reason to feel threatened. _Too loud. Too loud, the roar of the abomination behind him, the screaming of the Templar it had picked up._ “You just fucking sat there, Commander!”

Cullen turned to face his book shelf, closed his eyes, trying to drown out what noise there was, but the prickling of the Inquisitor’s magic was too much to ignore, making him stay in the moment instead of in the safety of his mind. “I need you on my side! Say something!”

“Shut up!” He struck out at his shelf, a flash of the conversation of the blue hell that haunted him. When he shouted, his words stunning the Inquisitor for a moment, enough to give him an in, “Pull your magic in,” he strained, and the worry in his voice must have made her realize why he was defensive, why he was trying to find an out.

Her magic left the room quickly, the mark fading back to a dull glow, “Oh...I’m so,” she placed a hand on his shoulder and he yanked himself from her touch, the stimuli too much too soon.

“I didn’t,” he paused, inhaling the crisp air slowly, “You know I hate politics. I hate the game. I don’t know why you expected anything else from me,” he shot a look to her, trying to emulate that he needed to the space she had taken from him.

She scoffed, “I know you’re upset,” she backed away just enough to calm herself, “But I thought...you know me Cullen… you know,”

“Do I?” he bit back, turning to face her now, his anger centering him, he shook his head and reached for the whiskey on his desk. She placed her hand on the bottle making it hit the desk instead. Cullen, out of anger, out of _spite_ , yanked it from her and drank from it deeply and slammed it back down, surprised it didn’t shatter.

“You’re being an ass, now,” she crossed her arms. _Once I would’ve found it endearing, cute.._ “I am still your superior officer, and you will,” _but now it set him on edge._

 

“I will _what,”_ he sneered, “I will let this whole thing slide? I’ll let every lie that left your lips be forgotten? Because, what? I,” _loved,_ he almost slipped out,  “ _trusted_ you,” he looked to where his lyrium had been for the past few months the missing dust on his shelf a reminder and the sinking feeling in his chest made him let out a breathy sigh, the hurt spilling out with it, “I trusted you…”

 “Cullen, I’m,” again she tried to console him and again he pulled away but she was more insistent, placing a hand on his face, pushing it so he had to look at her, “I’m still me”.

 A moment, just for a moment...his anger subsided and guilt replaced it. “I can’t,” he removed himself from her hand, “I can’t. I’m sorry,” Cullen shot a look to her and his words brought back the first time he decided his ideals and stance against lyrium were too much to give up. That he would have to give her up to stay away from spiraling back into full-blown lyrium addiction. Without another word, she left. And he was glad of it. Not as angry, maybe he could finally sleep.

 

* * *

 

  
Evelyn was...not as he expected a noblewoman would be. Physically, yes: beautiful, well dressed and calculating…. But she was brash and unapologetic about her issues. Demanding with no pomp or pretense and he found himself admiring her more and more. _Frankly, fuck your insensitivities._ Cullen chuckled and did his best to remember the reactions that drew from the rest of them. But startled at the reaction it drew from him.


	7. Our Yesteryears

Evelyn woke up before the sun. Her dream of meeting  _him_ startling her awake.  

_Her carriage stopped suddenly, and she nearly had fallen out of her seat. She remembered getting ready to yell at the driver but Hamish's voice stopped her._ _Her driver's thick accent causing her temper to smolder into something worse...fear. "Hey, we are just passing through, I'm just driving through, Lads. No harm, yea?"_  
she placed an ear to the carriage door but the language was muffled and she couldn't make out what they had said. "Hey," the carriage shifted, Hamish's voice now louder, "Stay away from there," Evelyn pulled her face back and panic filled her every being. A large shadow had filled the carriage door. "Please, leave us be!"   
"Us?" Was the one word she understood. Evelyn shifted back further into the carriage, and on the other side she could see another shadow of an intimidating figure and the sword hilt. Through the small crack of the window she only saw black and white....paint?  


_"Please, the chest on the back it has our supplies, just take that and go," Hamish choked out._  
"Could be more inside, yes?" a voice broke his plea.  
"No, nothing of value, please".  
"Check the carriage," another firm voice came and Evelyn frantically searched for a weapon....nothing. She curled herself into a ball and as her hand touched her head she felt the hair pin. She took it out and held it out in front of her.  
"No, don't" a loud smack then silence. The door opened quickly and she immediately noticed Hamish on the ground. A young man peered in covered in paint and she swung at him. When he stumbled backwards a few laughs echoed out. He climbed in again but he caught her wrist and quickly pulled her out and on the ground.   
  
The impact on her wrist as she tried to catch herself made her cry out the dirt and rocks digging into her legs and hands. There a few feet away Hamish was shifting on the ground, groaning.  
"So there was more treasure," a voice shifted her attention and she was met with a pair of boots when she turned around. Evelyn was shaking, but she had to know the face of the man who was about to kill her.

_He leaned down, squatting in front of her and she found herself more unsettled by the lack of paint around his eyes. He offered her his hand and she was reaching up when she heard, "Run!" followed by a hiss of pain. Evelyn turned just in time to see Hamish's dagger bloodied and one of the painted men grabbing his side. The bright blood a stark contrast to the black and white paint on their skin. She saw it happen so slowly... A quick glint of metal and "Hamish!" was all she could manage before a loud piercing sound and a sudden appearance of the sword tip from Hamish's body._

_"Eh!" The man before her stood suddenly and started shouting at the men in a foreign language. And she took that opportunity to do just as Hamish asked. She started to run but her damned heels made her slower then she..Evelyn screamed. A hand had caught her hair and stopped her full in her tracks. She was easily thrown at the carriage's side by the man who was yelling. "You will not run" and before she could scream out, she felt her head smack against the carriage._

 

* * *

 

Cullen had gotten up with the sun despite the maker-awful nightmare, training his troops and signing more missives than he would have liked to but they had projects they started that needed be finished; there were villages that had been ransacked by what was left of Samson’s men ones that he felt obligated to fix. Each time a new report with the Templar seal comes he sickens; what else monstrosities had they yet to uncover? Signing away until his hand was cramping and it was barely past breakfast. The anger resurfacing with every “I regret to inform you____ has given their life to the Inquisition”. Cullen resolved himself to leave his office long enough for something to soak up the remaining alcohol in his stomach as every damned time he leaned over he could taste the bile in his throat. Cullen opened his office door and caught a glimpse of something metallic on the rooftops; Evelyn. She was standing up on the roof, looking down at the courtyard below. Cullen stood on top of a smaller stone to see above the taller stones on the ramparts and he looked down to the courtyard noticing steps and railings and people. Cullen shot his head back up and looked back at the small figure on the roof who was still standing there shifting her weight between her legs, looking out seemingly at nothing.  _ She could fall. _ For a moment he stood there, watching, noticing how no one below had taken notice as of yet; he could see it now: screams and blood and panic...and scandal.  _ What in the Maker’s name is wrong with me?! _ Cullen, appalled that a  _ scandal _ was even on his mind finally managed to get ahold of himself and realize that this woman may be teetering on the same edge he was...before... Cullen looked back up and a sudden panic set in and Cullen ran as fast as he could, afraid if he shouted to get her down that she would jump below. 

 

Into the corridors he did his best to ignore the panic of the servants and the skidding his boots did on any slick section of stone and when he quickly found his keys, opened her door ran through her things and stopped at the open window when he heard her humming contently.  _ She’s...fine... _ Cullen stopped and climbed onto the table to peak his head out and noticed she was whittling something.

 

“Lady Trevelyan,” he spoke softly.

“So you were the one running across the courtyard,” she sat down her project and looked back to him, and the circles under her eyes all too familiar.

“Oh...Yes, I,” he looked at her, seeing more in those seconds than some see in years “May I... join you?” 

She paused, thinking it over for a moment, trying to figure out his intention and wondering in that moment if she could trust him, she nodded to herself then decided, “Of course, Commander,” she shifted over to give him space to sit next to her. Cullen unfastened his sword and set it just inside against the window sill and ungracefully climbed through the window and sat a few feet to her left. For a moment Cullen looked up to the mountains, admiring the view the roof was granting. The new perspective allowing him to notice the remnants of a frozen stream that dipped out of sight from another of the keep’s walls. 

 

A piece of wood shaving dropped into sight of his periphery and he looked to the woman on his right; she was still slightly turning the unformed piece of wood in her hand and Cullen could not pull away from watching her petite hands work. Small, scarred, pale hands moving in tight, precise movements, the blue in her veins shifting with the ligaments and bones under her damaged skin; Cullen looked to his gloved ones and tensed at the familiarity. A quite, comfortable silence sat in for a moment before he noticed his troops starting to filter out of the barracks below, small figurines from up here ready for their next regimen of training and he remembered that all anyone had to do was look up to notice the Commander sitting on the roof with the strange woman from yesterday. He had to break the silence, but he found he wanted to steal this moment of respite away from the responsibilities he carried. And yet the guilt overtook any thought of that right out of his mouth.

“What are you doing,” he looked to the woman on his right, and watched as she kept turning the piece of wood in her hands.

“Whittling,” she said not looking at him instead started carving details into the wood.

“I meant up here,” Cullen looked down and immediately wished he hadn’t, the ground spun and he felt himself try to clutch at the roof but he felt a hand push his chest back further until his back rested on the side of the building. Cullen, too terrified to thank her, simply listened.

“The light’s better,” she looked to him, “The quite, the cool….and now, I suppose the company,” she smiled, but still kept her eyes on the piece of ash in her hand, “But maybe you should go back inside, I don’t think they’d believe me if you passed out and fell to your death,” and then just like that she kept whittling.

“I,” Cullen cleared his throat, “I think you are right, apparently heights are not my thing. That and my troops might think I’ve forgotten about their next set of drills,” Cullen started to adjust so he could go back in through the window but she said, softly, “Thank you for your concern, Commander,” and he just looked to her and nodded.

 

Inside and safe Cullen looked back out at her through the open window and for a moment he watched her whittle, her hands soft and steady but delicate and dangerous and fatal should they wish to be.  When she turned her head over so slightly he decided it was best to leave her be; he reached for his sword and laced it through his belt without looking back up but he knew she was watching him from the side. Then he stopped realizing that if she was visible from the courtyard which meant the others had seen him.  _ Shit, they saw him.  _ Cullen groaned, and locked the door behind him. 

 

Wandering back down the steps to get to the main hall, he heard one too many echoes and swung around catching one of Leliana's men off guard, as he pinned them to the stone. He sighed and let go of the startled lad.  “Sorry, Commander, Leliana sent me to give you this,” he handed him a sealed letter, which he didn’t open until he was alone. It read:  _ CR, Since she requested your presence, it has been agreed that you should reflect back on listening ears. Nothing is unimportant, everything a potential in. Remember yourself and that she is just as well at this game. Be wary, this could be an act. -SN Ps- How’s the view _

 

_ Fuck. _ Cullen sighed, tossed the note in the nearest fire and kept heading down to breakfast. Mercifully, the cook saw him and threw together a small plate of bland food.  _ All I can stomach, lately.  _  Cullen poured himself a small cup of ale and he heard a chuckle next to him.

 

“Hair of the dog, ey?” Bull smiled and gathered some ham onto his plate, “So, uh, what’s the deal with,” Cullen stopped him.

“No,” he downed his cup and sat it back down.

“It’s alright, Cullen, just wondering if you,” he nodded towards her room,  “uh had a thing,” Cullen huffed. Annoyed, because he  _ had _ thought... _ no. _

“I have work to do,Bull,” and without looking back Cullen headed to his office.

 

For a few moments he ate in peace, trying his best to let his mind focus only on the warmth of the bread in his hands. Alas, the tea was empty as was his plate and the stack of reports only slightly smaller than before. Getting dressed in his armor, Cullen re-tied his straps His recruits were just as relentless as he thought they’d be a few mages had started to watch them train and began to practice magic in the corner. Cullen’s hair stood on end and he felt the pull of magic. 

 

_ “Run!” the panicked scream of the Knight Captain echoed on the stone walls of Kinloch, “Don’t look ba-,” Cullen stood frozen as he watched his superior cough up blood and grasp the talon that was poking out of his chest. “Run,” he turned the sword and plunged it backwards into the demon behind him. “I said fucking RUN,” Cullen took off down the hall and as the squelch of  something piercing through flesh echoed he found that he could not look back now.  _

 

“Watch out!” A mage shouted, and Cullen immediately silenced the magic around him, not aware of the healer that was passing behind him. The woman, not prepared for his onslaught, collapsed. Cullen’s knees were locked and all he could do was stare as a few people started running to the collapsed woman. A moment’s clarity allowed him to gain some control over himself and he started to the woman. 

“Shit,” Cullen rushed over, the crowd parting for the Commander, and placed a hand on her shoulder to try to rouse her, “Are you alright, “ The woman started awake and he was pushed away and onto his ass.

“Mother!” A young man interjected.

 

“Get your hands off the Commander,” one of his recruits snarled but before he could tell them to stand down, the young man was being hauled off.

 

“Stop!” Cullen shouted, his recruit, he noticed, was wearing Templar armor. _ Of course _ . His eyes tried to focus on the man but found that his vision was blurring.  Cullen shook his head and found himself fighting to even keep his head up.

 

“What is going on,” an older woman stepped out and noticed, a Templar restraining a mage, and one mage on the ground and went straight defensive.

“One of yours assaulted the Commander,” another answered.

“No,’ Cullen stated but it was unheard; his voice too weak. His heart pounded in his head, his vision becoming further from his body and his consciousness waning.

“Assaulted?” The young man bit out, “My mother was on the ground, who assaulted who?”

“The Commander did no such thing,” the Templar seethed.

 

The noise wrapped around him, his nerves on edge, nausea and sickness rising up in him, he tried to stand but faltered and then the world slowed slightly, their expressions building on their faces, postures shifting to aggressive and he couldn’t find the words to stop it. Instead, he watched, the first punch be thrown and then he passed out.

 

Next thing Cullen knew he woke in the sick bay being, reluctantly, attended to by the healer he had sapped, he tried to open his mouth but she hushed him.  He  _ smelled _ the lyrium on her lips and from the open bottle on the nightstand. He was weak, but he would not... _ no. Not lyrium. _ He looked around and saw a handful of mages, a few of his recruits and a whispering Inquisitor off to the side.   _ What this place is coming to _ … The healer did as her training instructed and tried to place a small phial of lyrium at his lips but he pushed her hand from his face violently. “It’s fine, Commander, I just tried it, it’s a good batch”.  _ I’m not worried about lyrium poisoning you twit.  _  She tried again but Cullen smacked it out of her hands and onto the floor. The healer huffed about “stubborn old Templars” and set off to fetch another bottle. Cullen mustered all his strength and pulled the covers up over his shoulder and turned from her, choosing to stare at a wall instead of deal with this. He felt hot, uncomfortable, and sore, but it was the pounding headache that let him know it was  the lyrium withdrawal kicking in full force. 

 

Just as he felt sleep creep up Cullen bolted up and promptly vomited into what he assumed was a chamber pot. Cullen smelt the vomit in his nose and tried to spit out what was in his mouth; annoyance seeping into his pores at every small inconvenience.  _ You’re weak. Pathetic. _ A small pitcher was beside the bed and he took only enough into his mouth to rinse out the taste. Cullen slowly laid back down and curled up as small as he could on the cot, pulling the blankets around him. _ “Please, don’t stop taking it. You could lose yourself-I could-” “Of course,” he looked down, and at the phial in his hand, “Inquisitor”. He closed his eyes, placed the phial on his lips and- _

 

Cullen’s eyes shot open and he groaned at the pounding in his head. Doing anything other than just...being made him hurt; Cullen stared at the wall in front of him focusing on the wood in front of him. The intricacies of the wood, its cracks, its patterns that formed over and over again between each plank telling him they were cut from the same tree. He heard the whispers of gentle touches between the healers and their patrons, he heard the groans of men and women who were ill or hurt from battle. But what he heard the Inquisitor say echoed down to his bones, “The Commander’s not taking his lyrium, that’s why he’s like this,”  _ What.  _ Cullen rolled over quickly, eyes narrowing towards her voice;   _ A weak leader will not be listened to as well. They cannot know...cannot.. _ Cullen’s adrenaline burst thinned out like a wave receding into the sea and he too became parallel with the soft sandy-colored sheet beneath him; but his cloudless sky was a view of water-damaged planks interspersed with their new replacements.  _ A fitting reminder _ .  What was worse was that she just kept talking about it to the healer. And Cullen felt himself sink further into the mattress wishing he could get up and tell her to keep her mouth shut, that this means that everyone in that sick bay knew he was vulnerable. The anger that had dissipated rising up but in spite his body rooted itself into a tense posture. He  _ really  _  just wanted to tell her that his addiction was not their business...But he couldn’t, Maker, just turning sapped him of all energy. He fell asleep in a listless haze of anger and regret at placing such a fundamental secret into the wrong hands.  Frustrated, he covered his head with the pillow and slept.

 

When he was well enough he insisted that he did the rest of the healing in his office. Once a day he would shimmy down the ladder and grab a stack of reports and haul them back up to read. Cassandra would come in and make him eat broth; either too bland or too salty but enough to sustain life, it seemed. The Inquisitor came by a few times and Cullen refused to acknowledge when she called out. He could hear Cassandra telling her that he’s been sleeping a lot.  _ Thank the Maker for Cassandra. _ It was she he’d allow to see him in this state and only her. She’d update him on his recruits and sometimes she’d just read quietly in his office, only punctuated by the occasional stifled chuckle or groan of his chair when she stretched. Cullen was only out of circulation for a few days but he knew the rumors were the things that would be damaging. On the 5th day he felt well enough to make an appearance and attend a War Table meeting. Cullen slowly made it down his ladder and wore lighter clothes knowing his full armor would only exhaust him faster. But he needed to be present in these meetings or Maker knows what would be decided with his troops or their training regimen.

 

Cullen sighed, reached for his boots and sat down at his desk to tie them up quickly. When his head was level with the top of it he noticed a small figurine: a carved lion. For a moment  he just stared at it, too afraid that he would break it if he touched it. A flash of a roof and turning hands came to mind and he nearly guffawed out loud to the silence he had surrounded himself with.  _ Had she snuck in? _ He picked it up gently, turning it to admire the details; a stern-faced lion, a full  orange mane and a ridiculous set of sharp, black claws . Cullen put it on his shelf, away from the chance of getting knocked on the ground and headed out. His coat was not as warm as he wished, but it would do the trick for the small walk he had to endure outside. Below, Rylen managed his troops and the mages were now training by Blackwall instead of next to one another like they used to.  _ Lovely _ .  He opened the door to where Solas used to be hunched over or painting at obscene hours and wondered where that damned man took off to. The eerie silence of the Keep was not lost on him; since the defeat of Corypheus everything had, mostly, calmed down. Up until this upset Cullen had almost had grasped peace. But like so many times before it fell through his fingers. Cullen walked over to Solas’ last mural and stared at the unfinished painting, imagining what it would have looked like finished. 

 

“Lost, resenting on things unfinished. Worried, restless in the steps made,” Cole said, and he felt the young man next to him, “ She is,”  _ she? _ Cullen looked to Cole, “ pacing, the ground underneath her thin from her fretting. She tried to wash the scars off, tries to not think of missing him,” Cole walked up and touched the unfinished painting, “She worries she can never be who she was before the marks were on her skin”. That was it. Cole stopped talking and when Cole just kept walking out towards the main hall Cullen faltered.  _ Who was he talking about? Surely, the Inquisitor? Or… _ he looked towards where Lady Trevelyan’s room was and paused.  _ Missing him? _

 

“Feeling better, Commander,” Dorian asked, a cup of coffee in his hand, “Thought our ladies finally devoured you whole and stuffed what was left of you in a mead barrel,”  Dorian was standing next to him looking at the mural, “I wonder if Solas ever intended to finish this,” he nodded to the unfinished section, “Despite him being incessantly grouchy and absolutely no fun at all, he could paint,”Cullen just nodded, afraid he’d slip out a question about the newest Skyhold resident.  _ I wonder if she’d...no. _

 

“I need to go, meeting’s about to start,” Cullen said, not wanting to give any indication that something was wrong; he steeled himself and started to turn away from him.

 

“You know,” Dorian said just enough for Cullen to stop, his body jerking into stillness “Cole does mean well, he just has a knack of finding what troubles us most and brings it to the surface,” Cullen didn’t say anything, afraid admitting it out loud would solidify his worries. 

 

The meeting had barely started when Cullen opened the door to the War Room.

 

“Commander,” Josephine piped up, “I’m glad to see you are feeling better,” she smiled and continued to write down her notes.

 

“Yes, although, I think you’ll be happy to know that Knight Captain Rylen has done well in your absence,” Leliana offered attempting to comfort him in knowing that everything kept being as productive without him but they reminded him that he was, indeed,  _ dispensable. _

 

“Thank you,” Cullen said, grabbing the missive stack that was in his usual place and started filtering through things that needed his attention versus those that were fine as is.  _ Rylen would do well in my place… _ The footsteps outside warned of the Inquisitor’s approach as she opened the door but it did not warn of Lady Trevelyan’s. 

 

She looked exactly like what he imagined she would wear for one of those large pretentious  portraits; a pale blue dress that was lined with fur on the top with small jewels throughout that barely touched the floor: a perfectly tailored dress to exaggerate what she was willing to flaunt...  but underneath he saw her; exhausted and unwilling to admit anything other than what she wanted them to know, unaware that their residential spirit turned man companion could tell them what troubled her most.  _ Worried, restless in the steps made. Pacing, trying to wash the scars off...missing him _ . He looked up to the Lady and watched her mannerisms, her ticks. She was standing perfectly still, the others fidgeting beside her making it appear that they were the waves and she the shore. The only part of her even slightly moving was the ring she was fiddling with.  They talked by her, waiting for her to interject but she just kept staring at the map in front of them. 

 

“Commander Cullen,” he looked to the Inquisitor, who seemed to be leading him. And Cullen noticed Lady Trevelyan’s head snap up at his preoccupied mind.

“Sorry, I was elsewhere,” Cullen shifted his stance and gave his full attention to the Inquisitor; one arm folded around his body and the other resting under his chin.

“The Templars we sent for should be filtering in within the next few weeks,” she repeated, “Should we defer to Rylen,” Cullen shook his head, his hand now covering his mouth for a moment.

“They need a Templar’s voice in their heads, not just a soldier's,” Cullen sighed, “When do we expect them exactly?”

“A few weeks at least, maybe more for those traveling across the Waking Sea, if the weather turns sour” Lelaina supplied.

“And their ranks? Where are they from,” Cullen pried but was all too aware that Lady Trevelyan was now pacing with her head down, listening.

Josephine quickly flipped through her notes, “We have 3 Knight Lieutenant's, 5 Knight Corporals and the rest are relatively new to the Order,” she flipped one page and continued, “Many are from what was left of the White Spire, a few snuck out of Therinfal Redoubt, and the rest are from...from the Ostwick circle,” everyone but Lady Trevelyan became uneasy, Cullen just nodded.

“I will see to it that they are trained properly,” Cullen gathered up his reports and missives, and assumed that the meeting was nearly over.

“Commander,” the Inquisitor spoke up, “Are you...well, I mean, well-enough to train,” her question was innocent, but it stirred back up the resentment and rage that had settled right back to the surface.

“I’m  _ fine,”  _ Cullen snapped, hoping that would be the end of it.

“I apologize for what happened, but,” Cullen snapped.

“But  _ what _ ,” he bit out, “But you felt it necessary to advertise my-,” he caught himself and stopped inhaling through his nose and just held it for a moment, “Perhaps next time, you’ll not give such ill-advice, because  _ that _ is what happens” he snatched up his papers and started heading to the door but Lady Trevelyan stopped him; her motions reminding him of the conversation he had had with Evangeline before he...

“Commander,” her hand was on his chest, remnant of what happened on the roof, “What is going on?” The warmth in her hand seeping through his layers of clothes distracting him for a split second.

Cullen shot a look to the Inquisitor, “Have her tell you,” he pushed past her and went to the training yard he needed to let off some steam and it would be better if it was something inanimate as the only damage that would be done was to him.


	8. To Be Alone With You

_ Thwack!  _ Cullen’s sword lodged itself into the wood frame of the dummy. He pulled back but his sword stayed embedded in the wood. He felt his chest heaving, unaware that his breath was lost or that his heart was racing. But the sweat dripping into his eyes made him pause more than his tired muscles. Stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow before it made his eyes sting more than they were already Cullen became acutely aware of the cramping in his hands and the throbbing in his shoulders from the constant reverberations of the metal from its impact with the wood. He leaned against what was left of the dummy’s frame and closed his eyes.  _ Through the nose, out the mouth. Through the nose, out the mouth. _

 

_ The Commander’s looking a bit worse for wear, yea? _

_ Yea. Heard he quit taking the lyrium shit. _

_ Is he insane that could kill ‘im?! _

_ Yea. Maybe that ‘as something to do with the rumors about the Inquisitor? _

_ Those are just rumors, though. _

_ How about that fancy Lady? Caught him making eyes at her. _

  
  


Cullen shoved off from the post and headed right for his office; to the safety the locked doors granted him. After going over the reports one last time Cullen had begun planning for the incoming Templars which meant that he needed to prepare to address them and how to talk to them about being careful not to ensight the mages anymore because, unfortunately, the decision was not his to involve them and it was at the mercy of his  _ superior _ officer. 

He sighed, he never expected to have to defer, again, to someone’s whose judgement he didn’t agree with. He never expected to survive this either, but thankfully he was unbelievably stubborn when he believed in something. He needed to tidy up his office, he hadn’t had the chance yet since he was sick and it needed to be tidier for when he addressed the Templars here. He gathered the books that were strewn about his office and started putting them, painstakingly, back into alphabetical order. 

 

A knock on his office door made him pause his search for a moment, “Come in,” he didn’t look back because he would surely lose his place.

 

“Are you busy Commander,”  _ Lady Trevelyan _ .

“I’m just,” he sighed, “Just tidying up,” and he placed the book that was in his hand onto the shelf. She took the next book in the pile and thumbed through it, “You have varied interests,” she laughed.  _ What.  _ He turned and noticed it was one of Varric’s novels

“Oh, no, that’s not,” she turned from him, making him incapable of grabbing it from her.

She started to read from it, “She looked at him as though he was her only way to salvation, his rippling muscles her prayer,” she stifled a laugh, “Let me pray at your altar good Ser, I will show you how I praise you so,” thankfully she shut the book and handed it to him but he was already as red as a ripe cherry.

“That’s Lady Cassandra’s, I promise you,” He quickly threw it randomly on a shelf with the spine facing inwards.

“Lady Cassandra’s?”  _ Oh, shit. _

“No, please, don’t say anything to her,” he realized he was now much closer to her than before and he took a step back.

“Are you,” she leaded and her meaning made him stutter out a response.

“Maker, no. She-she’s family. A sister-” Cullen hoped that satisfied her but it was her distraction that saved him.

“I won’t,” she turned and spotted the little lion carving, “Say anything that is. I keep my promises,” and placed it back to where it was, facing out now.

“Ah,” Cullen set down the stack of books on one of the empty lower shelves. 

“You’re sick, aren’t you? That’s why you collapsed,” she was now analyzing his expression and he felt bare before her, afraid his gestures or expressions would bare him even further.

“Yes,” he replied, not taking his eyes from her, and it turns out his words would be the betrayers instead, “I’m not taking my lyrium draughts “ His eyes widened and instinctively,he turned from her looking out the small arrow slits behind him. He tensed when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“That’s brave of you,” she placed herself to his left so that she could see his face;  _ How vulnerable. _ He steeled himself, ready to shut her out, to turn away and excuse himself. “You can be human, you know,” she offered.

“I am, but...” he sighed and looked to her, “That isn’t something I can afford to do in front of my men,” his anxiety of this being known creeping up on him like a spider he couldn’t find.

“I am not asking you to do such,” she walked behind him and she lightly ran her hand across his back, a gesture done to let him know where she was, but he _shivered._ _Maker, forgive me._ When he looked to her again but now it was she who was staring out the arrow slit and he watching her.

“What are you asking, then,” he leaned against the wall facing her.

“To not pretend to be just a Commander, I suppose,” she glanced at him then back down to the small view the arrow slits afforded, “I want you to be yourself, not what they think you are”.

“And what is that?” He pried.

“You are just a man with a lot of burdens and a cracking resolve,”  _ ok, there’s my pride out the arrow slit,  _ “But,” she paused, “You are stronger than they are, an unbreakable fort when you find something you want to defend,” she turned to him, and stared far too long at his lips, “Oh, what a Thane you would make,”  _ Thane?  _ she bit her lip and he held his breath, “Out on the forefront with your men and unwillingly to falter with the  _ proper support _ offered,” she turned to look away from him and Cullen was now keenly aware of how fast his heart was beating and how he hung to every word she said. 

He exhaled the breath he had been holding, her words echoing in his mind, “Proper support,” He reached for her wanting to turn her back towards him, but he mirrored her instead, looking out the arrow slit and down into the frozen waters below. “Would that be you, Lady Trevelyan?”

She turned back to him and now she was too far and too close at the same time, “Once everything is back on track, I hope to be able to help with that Templar recovery program of yours, since your Inquisitor does not see as much value in it as I do,” she reached up and he tensed.   _ How does she-?  _ She paused her movements, looked to him, held his gaze and reached up to pull the stray string.

“Why,” his mind slightly foggy from her, “Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s barely funded, isn’t it?” She dropped the string and returned her hands to being clasped in front of her.

“I meant why would you even care,” as much as he wanted to assume that this was simply generosity, he guessed it wasn’t.

“Because I remember what my,” she paused, “...my brother was like on it,” she shifted her stance, dodging his glance entirely, “I also know what happens when it starts to erode the mind,” she looked back to him, “And I like you far too much to let that be your fate,” Cullen’s eyes widen and he felt the very sudden urge to look away.

“Thank you, Lady Trevelyan,” he muttered.

“Evelyn,” she corrected.

“That is,” he began to excuse the idea, a formality, really. 

“When we’re alone, you can call me Evelyn,” she stated again, a firmer voice this time.

“I, of course,” he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at her, “Evelyn”. She smiled and he reciprocated.  _ She looks so- _

 

His office door burst open, “Commander Cullen, news, Ser,” Cullen reacted, annoyed at the interrupted moment and rounded the table and looked like he was going to pitch the man off the side. That man was very aware of his immediate error but Cullen let him have it; it wasn’t his fault that Cullen was so mad, but it was something he could do without there being any ramifications about it.

“Soldier, apologize for interrupting the Lady,” and the man stuttered out a sorry,  but Cullen never gave him an option to get out, “Good, now, get out and run the perimeter, and then come find me,” Cullen snarled puffed up like he was going to run the man through for being rude, “The next time you barge into your superior officer’s post, without so much as a knock you will be sent off to some Maker-knows shithole station far away from the softness of your bed here,” now Cullen was just towering over the man, daring him to move, “Next time you interrupt myself or my guests I guarantee you will wish that you stayed home bent over begging your Lord to,” Cullen stopped realizing Lady Trevelyan was still in the room, “I apologize,” he looked to her.

“Don’t, this is amusing,” she was smiling at him. Cullen stood back from the recruit.

“Get out,” Cullen hissed but the recruit forgot something.

“Soldier,” they stopped in their tracks, too afraid to answer, “hand me the fucking report”. The recruit nearly dropped it before he got out the door to which Cullen yelled, “Shut the damned door”.

He knew she hadn’t seen that part of him yet, the Commander, but she knew he couldn’t change it just because she was in his office she looked like she was dumb stricken before her resolve waned and she laughed. Maker, she  _ laughed _ when the door was shut and he couldn’t help but join her.    
“I think you scared the piss out of him,” she managed through her laughter, a giggle more than anything and he felt himself truly smile back at her. Her laughter bringing a chuckle that rumbled from his chest, something he hadn’t felt in some time. 

“Now I know where you get the nickname from,” she laughed lightly.

Cullen just nodded and opened the letter and his face fell.

“Son of a bitch,” Cullen slammed the report on his desk.

\---

Cullen apologized to the Lady and headed right to the Ambassador’s office.

“What is this,” he showed her the note, and the guards on watch tucked tail out of there before she answered.

“It’s a ball, Commander,” Josephine said softly, “Please, sit”.

“Yes, I see that,” he started pacing in front of her desk instead of taking her offer, “I believe this is going to cost us a fortune….or have none of you registered the fact that we owe back everything that was stol-,”

“Commander!” Josephine stood up, only now noticing how frayed and spent she looked and he stopped, “I don’t know why you think we’re all of a sudden incapable of doing our jobs, but this is intended to be a way to raise funds, we need the support of the other nobles, in case this,” she sighed and regained the composure, “We need the help, ok?” 

“Does Lady Trevelyan know?”

“About the ball?” He shook his head, to confirm.

“No, that’s up to you,” he scoffed, “She’ll know that I want nothing to do with this,” he sat down and shook his head.

“No, she won’t” Josephine leaned in with a devilish smile and Cullen had the misfortune of learning why.

\---

Anyone that saw the Commander leave the Ambassador’s office would have seen on his face the most conflicted mix of confusion and anger and...excitement?

 

Cullen’s training with the recruits was interesting. He never called off a training exercise; not in rain, sleet or snow, but he did today; his mind more foggy than he wanted to admit. Half way through it he no longer could focus and he had to dismiss them for fear of making some stupid mistake while training. He barely ate for he was fretting far too much to think more than what, how to do this properly. The focus gone as he wondered if Evangeline knew...if she consented at the idea. Cullen shook it off as he did his best to keep signing reports. After dinner he had intended to walk the battlements to clear his head but he saw her. She was heading into the tavern, dressed in more reasonable clothes, but still he worried as that was home of the Chargers and Maker knows what they’re up to. Cullen went up to his Office and quickly put on all his armor, making sure to ignore his shaking hands and nervous stomach.

 

Walking down to the Herald’s Rest was more off-putting than he would’ve liked. Too many mages glaring and too many of his soldiers glancing down when he walked by.  _ That doesn’t matter what matters is- _ A loud crash inside the Herald’s Rest made him unsheathe his weapon and barge in but he opened it to thunderous applause, directed right to the bar. There, Lady Trevelyan had a young soused soldier pinned to the bar with his face flat in what probably used to be her drink and a smiling Iron Bull. Cullen carefully re-sheathed his weapon and made his way to the scene. Some parted for him when the noticed the Commander was on his way but others were too transfixed as Lady Trevelyan was now drinking another drink while still pinning the man in place.

When the young soldier (Thomas?) noticed Cullen his face fell, “Oh, shit,” Cullen crossed his arms and most of the Herald’s Rest went quite. 

 

“Soldier,” he asked far too calm to be his actual emotions, “What in Thedas happened to your face,” it was cut in some places, swelling in others and well, it looked like shit. He didn’t answer, so he asked once more, “Soldier, I am waiting”.

“Go on,” Evelyn said, “Tell the Commander, I’m sure he’d love to hear it,” she sat her drink down and faced the man she had in her midst. 

“I, made a pass at the,” she squeezed his wrist tighter, and made him grunt, “An unwelcomed pass at her, s’all,” she squeezed again, and this time he made a mistake of adding a remark.

“Fucking bitch,” She squeezed harder and the room’s charge changed. She was livid, but calm, which is worse than openly angry.

“Commander,” he looked to her, “Would you like to hear a tale?”

He played along, “Of course, I love tales,” he sat down on the other side of the squirming gentleman.

“You see, I am a well-traveled woman and in those,” she looked to him a warning of sorts, “travels… I met some lovely Avaar warriors,” people were mumbling, “They were brutish and cruel but you know what they didn’t do?”

Cullen feigned interest, eyes darting back and forth from her and the soldier, “Hmm?”

“They never did anything without consent. Sometimes it was consent of the Thane, their ruler, or, in a romantic sense, permission from her partner. Now, if a man  _ ever _ touched a woman whose consent he did not have and tried to touch her without said explicit consent, she had every right to take something of his,” a fair trade, hmm?” He did not like where this was going.

“I...suppose,” and there he saw her dagger on her hip,  _ fuck. _

“Commander, do I have permission to take something of his,” she purred.

“Anything but his life,” was all he managed before she quickly stabbed his arm, or so he thought. She had pinned him to the table, and the man nearly fainted. 

“I’d ask for his coin purse,” she looked to Cullen,  who reached and took it from the man’s belt, “Thank you,” she turned and sweetly asked the bartender to pour a round of ale, for the house.

_ Son of a bitch. _ Cullen was not sure how this was going to go but he was glad she didn’t right-out castrate the man.

She did humiliate him though, “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I will take that instead of your coin purse,” she hissed at him then threw him at the floor, ripping his shirt sleeve in the process, and the man took off. Cullen shot a look to Rylen who snuck out quickly.

 

“Back to your own business, all of you,” Cullen shouted and when he turned back to her she was fretting over the small blood stain on her dress.

“I apologize, Lady, he will be dealt with,” she smiled at him with an eyebrow raised.

“He’s been dealt with. Nothing’s worse than a fatal blow to the ego,” she turned back around and drank deep from the new cup that had just been poured.

“Still, I,” Cullen sighed, “You’re right, you handled it well,” Cullen shot a look to the bartender who poured him one as well. 

“Lady…” he stopped, Josephine’s words fresh in his mind still, “Evelyn,” she seemed shocked at his use of her name, “Can I speak with you,” he gestured to the door, “Privately”. She looked down at the bar.

“Of course, Commander,” she finished what was in her cup and picked up her dagger from the bar and waited for him to offer her his arm, which he did after he too finished his drink. 

 

Once they were outside Cullen realized he didn’t actually have a destination in mind other than “not in the tavern”. Stalling he did his best to make small talk...which was actually awful.

 

“It’s a nice night for a walk,” he stopped realizing what drivel just escaped his mouth. 

“Did you hit your head, Commander,” she jested and he was grateful that she continued, “I assume you didn’t want to talk in the tavern”

“Ah, yes, I,” he was still trying to figure out what he was going to do when she offered him an out.

“The library should be empty, the mage was in the tavern still when we left making eyes at the Qunari” she steered him towards the library and he felt her quicken her pace when the guards were switching their rotations.  _ Habit, perhaps? _

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about...something,” Cullen nodded to the guards who were passing as he held the door for her.

“Oh?” She tilted her head enough to make eye contact before continuing towards the library.

“It’s not as serious as I think it is, I’m sure, but I felt like I should at least do you,” her head snapped back and he froze, stuttering out the rest of the sentence, “th-the courtesy,” she found her way to one of the seats in the library and sat down. Cullen was transfixed on the small exposure that her dress offered him; just the top of her breasts barely showed and whatever perfume she was wearing was intoxicating.

“Courtesy of what?”  _ Maker, did I stop mid-sentence? _ Bewildered, Cullen sat down opposite of her, accidently knocking her knee which he placed a hand on before he realized the inappropriateness of the gesture and retreated back into the softness of the seat, flustered as all hell, “You,” he coughed to get his voice back down to his normal octave, “You know that I’m on the War Council and have been privy to information that usually doesn’t leave the room,” his heart started beating faster and he did his best to hide the blush on his face, but it definitely was noticed by Evelyn who was always watching him like a hawk, “The last meeting about finances Lady Montilyet mentioned that there is to be a fundraiser,” he paused looking to her briefly before inhaling slowly, to steady his flustered nerves, “Well, she-Lady Montilyet informed me earlier that it is to be a ball of noblemen and noblewomen who are willing to donate anonymously to the Inquisition,” she scoffed, but he continued, “She made it clear that your identity cannot be known yet...So I,” he cleared his throat, and quickly got out the sentence that has been threatening to cause a massive stomach upset all over the floor “I would like to volunteer my services for the night of the dance,” he exhaled loudly and looked to her.

“Oh? She shifted forward, placing her hands on Cullen’s knees and he  _ heard _ himself suck in a breath, “What kind of services,” Cullen noted her eyes shift down his body before she made eye contact with him once more, something that always made him hyper aware of his attraction to her, “are you offering?”

“I-I meant,” he stood, a mistake grave in his part as now her face was perfectly aligned with the  _ attraction _ he couldn’t hide, so he turned, and walked around the table, then back to her, “I meant as your,” his mind faltered on the word but she offered another one instead.

“Bodyguard?” She asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, standing to meet him once more.

“Date,” he huffed out and could now feel the weight of her stare but she smiled and stopped short of him.  _ What a tit I must look like. Stuttering in front of her like a love-struck schoolboy.  _  Cullen tensed when he felt her hand on his arm and she looked at him like a predator admiring her well-caught dinner.    
“Will you be dancing with me?” Her hands moved up his arms and Cullen laughed nervously through his nose, “Is that a no?”

“I don’t dance,” he replied unable to think of better articulated sense as her touch sapped his concentration.

“Good,” her hands had wandered to his chest now and he made the mistake of looking at her.

 

That was it. It happened so quickly and all she did was bite her lip at him. Cullen cupped her face and kissed her, walking her back to the bookcase until she hit it, causing him to knock teeth with her, but she was unfazed as she and kept running her hands in his hair, and kissing him earnestly back. In all respects, he towered over her, shielding her even now as he continued his onslaught of his repented affection. Cullen felt  _ high _ . Better than a lyrium draught, better than a full night’s sleep and he was  _ loving  _ it. Maker, he was on fire and she kept adding to his flame with the barest of touchest. She was letting out delightful little hums and he was groaning into her mouth as the kiss deepened. His hands never left her face and just as she had slipped them under his shirt when the door downstairs swung open and Cullen whirred around with his weapon drawn, a natural reaction to protect,  putting himself between the intruder and her. The only sound he could hear besides his own heartbeat was a set of footsteps up the stone stairs. 

 

“Maker, Cullen” it was Rylen with an arm full of old military history books, “You right scared the piss out of me,” he adjusted the books in his arm and Cullen sheathed his weapon and sighed loudly.

“Sorry, Rylen, still a bit on edge,” he looked to Rylen, one of the few he told about his attempt to quit lyrium and so he understood Cullen’s well-thought lie.

“S’all right boss, just returning these from the boys’ rooms,” the realization of where they were hit him, “Why are you-”

“Oh,” Evelyn said in a surprised tone and Cullen looked to her and realized she was just as quick-witted as he hoped, “Commander, you have company,” she laughed, now carrying just as many books as Rylen,” Cullen went over and took them from her noticing how her hand stayed on his just a little too long.

“I see,” Rylen laughed, his thick Starkhaven accent all over his words, “A fellow bibliophile,” he nodded to her, unable to bow with the books he carried.

“Yes,” she looked to Cullen and continued, “I asked the Commander to help me carry these before he headed off to his office for the rest of the night and he, thankfully, obliged,” she shot one last quick look and Cullen continued.

“I couldn’t deny the request, plus, I needed to stretch. Grab a bite before I start tackling the reports,” he nodded to Rylen, continuing before he could be questioned “Goodnight, captain,” and then he looked to Evelyn who was now to his right.

“Yes, goodnight, Captain,” she offered sweetly.

“Goodnight, do try to rest, yea? Run yerself ragged you will,” Rylen smiled and headed to the section of the old library where the books belonged. 

 

When they were out the door and far away from any prying ears she whispered, “So...you are to be my date?”  Cullen nodded, analyzing every second of what had just transpired for any sign that his captain had seen or heard anything he shouldn’t have.

“Lucky me,” he looked up when she cleared her throat and realized that they really were in front of her already opened door.

Cullen handed her the books and she sat them on the desk; Now that he was calm and his mind not fully focused on his more primal instincts, he was running through a thousand ways to apologize to her about his inappropriate actions but again she surprised him.

“Goodnight,  _ Cullen _ ,” he looked to her when she said his name, his  _ actual _ name and like  _ that, _ and she kissed him on the cheek, instantly feeling his face go warm.

Cullen “Goodnight, my Lady,” he bowed and she tutted him but smiled as she shut the door.

Cullen rested his head against her door, “Goodnight Evelyn,” he said as soft as he could before he made his way to his office with no knowledge that she had heard him all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Hozier, To Be Alone. That is a good vibe for them, tbh.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for trying this new adventure out with me! I'd love to hear from all of you <3.


End file.
